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UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. 



PROFESSOR LADD'S V/ORKS. 



PRIMER OF PSYCHOLOGY. 12mo, 75 cents net. 

PSYCHOLOGY; Descriptive and Explanatory. A Treatise of 
the Phenonnena, Laws, and Developnnent of Human Mental 
Life. 8vo, $4.50. 

INTRODUCTION TO PHILOSOPHY. An Inquiry after a Ra- 
tional Systenn of Scientific Principles in their Relation to 
Ultimate Reality. 8vo, $3.00. 

OUTLINES OF PHYSIOLOGICAL PSYCHOLOGY. A Text- 
book on Mental Science for Academies and Colleges. Illus- 
trated. 8vo, $2.00. 

ELEMENTS OF PHYSIOLOGICAL PSYCHOLOGY. A Treatise 
of the Activities and Nature of the Mind, from the Physical 
and Experimental Point of Vievv/. With numerous illustra- 
tions. 8vo, $4.50. 

THE DOCTRINE OF SACRED SCRIPTURE. A Critical, His- 
torical, and Dogmatic Inquiry into the Origin and Nature of 
the Old and New Testaments. 2 vols., Bvo, $7.00. 

THE PRINCIPLES OF CHURCH POLITY. Crown 8vo, $2,50. 

WHAT IS THE BIBLE? An Inquiry of the Origin and Nature 
of the Old and New Testaments in the Light of Modern 
Biblical Study, 12mo, $2.00. 



PRIMER OF PSYCHOLOGY 



PRIMER 



OF 



PSYCHOLOGY 



BY 



/ 



GEOEGE TRUMBULL LADD 

PROFESSOR OF PHILOSOPHY IN YALE UNIVERSITY 



(SEP 15 .b:- 

'K^^.. cA<^^ 



NEW YORK 
CHARLES SORIBNER'S SONS 

1894 






x^^ 



x'?^^ 

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Copyright, 1S94, by 
CHAELES SCRIBNER'S SONS 



TROW DIRECTORY 

PRINTING AND BOOKBINDING COMPAN/ 

NEW YORK 



5 



THIS 

BOOK 

IS DEDICATED 

TO THE YOUNG DAUGHTER 

OF MY FRIEND AND COLLEAGUE 

WHO HAS BEEN KIND ENOUGH TO READ 

IT AND TO SAY THAT SHE HAS 

UNDERSTOOD AND 

ENJOYED 

IT 



PREFACE 

The writing of this little book was undertaken in 
part as a recreation between two much more bulky 
and serious pieces of work. From the personal 
point of view it may be regarded as the result of a 
feeling of curiosity — of the author's desire to make 
the experiment of telling, in a manner to correspond 
fairly well with its chosen title, the story of the men- 
tal life. As the dedication shows, a young friend 
was kind enough to offer herself as both subject for 
the experiment and judge of its result. I have tried 
to make my confidence in the intelligence of my 
youthful critic the measure of my success. 

But besides the more personal interest in such an 
endeavor, I have hoped in some degree to supply 
what I believe to be a real need. For it cannot 
be doubted that there are many adults, as well as 
youths, who would find some pleasure and perhaps 
more profit in reading a very brief and simple 
treatise on psychology. 

While adopting the title of " Primer," it has 
been my aim to avoid both of two extremes. One 
of these is the extreme of " talking down " to the 
reader in such manner as to keep unpleasantly be- 
fore him his own lack of familiarity with the subject 



Vlll PREFACE 

— not to say lack of intelligence and of willingness 
to think for himself while acquiring the information 
and thoughts furnished by others. It is my experi- 
ence that intelligent and self-respecting youth re- 
sent this ; and, certainly, it is offensive to almost all 
of that maturer audience which any genuine scholar 
would care to reach. The other extreme is that of 
dryness and of difficulty due to excessive condensa- 
tion without dropping the use of technical language 
and of strictly scientific modes in presenting the re^ 
suits of previous researches. 

In a word, this book simply aims to narrate some 
of the more obvious facts and principles known to 
modern scientific psychology in plain and familiar 
English, and in an orderly but wholly untechnical 
way. Anything like completeness, whether as re- 
spects the topics touched upon or the treatment 
given to any one of these topics, must not be ex- 
pected. 

I hope and expect that this book will be useful 
for the instruction of the young in the important 
subject with which it deals. It would seem not un- 
reasonable also to think that it will be welcome to 
many adults who are willing to spend a few (but 
only Si few) hours on easy lessons in psychology. It 
is likely, too, that it may prepare the way, with both 
classes of readers, for the study of larger and more 
serious works on the same subject. 

It is worth while only to add that the considerable 
number of experiments constantly used to illustrate 
each topic can, with few exceptions, be performed 



PREFACE IX 

by any reader. Most of them require little or no 
apparatus ; and, of course, by following them out 
for one's self the interest and value of so elementary 
a study will be g-reatly increased. Finally : this 
book is not to be regarded as an abridgment of any 
other existing work, whether by its author or by 
other writers on psychology. It is what its name 
best indicates — a " Primer." 



TABLE OF CONTENTS 



CHAPTEE I. 

PAGES 

The Mind and its Activities, 1-15 

What is Psychology ?— The Point of View.— A Study of Re- 
lations. — A Study of the Self. — Consciousness and Mind. 
— Definition of Psychology. — How to Study Psychology. — 
Self-consciousness or Introspection. — Sources of Psychol- 
ogy. — Experiment in Psychology. — Method in Psychology. 
— The Faculties of the Mind. — Benefits of Psychology. 



OHAPTEE II. 

Consciousness and Attention, 16-31 

Meaning of the Term Consciousness. — State of Conscious- 
ness. — Field of Consciousness. — Extent of Consciousness. 
— Intensity of Consciousness. — Speed of Consciousness. — 
Character of Consciousness. — Conditions of Conscious- 
ness. — Attention. — Distribution of Attention. — Rise and 
Fall of Attention. — Conditions of Attention. — Kinds of 
Attention. — Attention and Discrimination. — Attention 
and Feeling. — Attention and Will. — Nature of Attention. 
— Self-consciousness. 

CHAPTER III. 
Sensations, 32-51 

Nature of Sensation. — Origin of Sensations. — Classes of Sen- 
sations. — Sensations of Smell. — Sensations of Taste. — Sen- 
sations of Sound. — Kinds of Sounds. — Pitch of Tones. 



Xii TABLE OF CONTENTS 

— Sensations of Light and Color. — Kinds of Visual Sen- 
sations. — Mixing of Colors. — Sensations of Pressure — 
Sensations of Temperature. — Muscular Sensations. — Sen- 
sations of the Joints. — Organic Sensations. — Causes of 
Difference in Sensations. — Sensations and the Organism. 
— Quality of Sensations and of Stimulus, — Intensity of 
Sensations. — Weber's Law. — Limits of Sensation. — Local 
Signs. — Sensations of Motion and Position. 



CHAPTEE rV. 

PAGES 

Feeling, . 52-67 

Nature of Feeling. — Conditions of Feeling — Kinds of Feel- 
ing. — Sensuous Feelings. — Feelings of Relation. — Feeling 
as Pleasure-Pain. — Conditions of Pleasure-Pain. — Mixed 
Pleasure and Pain. — Rhythm of Pleasure and Pain. — 
Pleasures of Rhythm. — Effect of Repetition. — Diffusion 
of Feelings. 

CHAPTER V. 

Mental Images and Ideas, 68-88 

Nature of the Mental Image or Idea. — After-images. — Fad- 
ing of Mental Images. — Sensations and Mental Images. — 
Conditions of Mental Images. — Images and Ideas. — Inten- 
sity of Ideas. — Life-likeness of Ideas. — Accompaniments 
of Ideas. — Fusion of Ideas. — Spontaneous Recurrence of 
Ideas. — Series of Ideas. — '' Freeing " of Ideas. — Associa- 
tion of Ideas. — Laws of Association. — Principle of Con- 
tiguity. — Special Laws of Association. 



CHAPTER VI. 

Smell, Taste, and Touch, " . 89-105 

Nature of Perception. — Development of Perception. — Classes 
of Perceptions. — Perceptions of Smell. — Perceptions of 
Taste. — Perceptions of Touch. — Earliest Knowledge of 



TABLE OF CONTENTS Xlll 

the Body by Touch.— Perceptions of Motion by Touch.— 
Perceptions of Position on the Skin. — Positions of the 
Movable Parts.— Development of Perception by Touch.— 
Distinction of our Body and other Bodies. — Qualities of 
Bodies by Touch.— Perception of Distant Bodies by 
Touch. 

CHAPTER VII. 

PAGES 

Hearing and Sight, 106-122 

Perceptions of Hearing. — ^Place of Sounds — Qualities of 
Bodies by Sound. — Perceptions of Sight. — Means for Vis- 
ual Perception. — Two Principles of Visual Perception. — 
Formation of a Visual Image. — Effects of Moving the Eye. 
— Accommodation of the Eye. — The Visual Object. — The 
Field of Vision. — Images of the Two Eyes. — Movement of 
the Two Eyes. — Instantaneous Vision. — Secondary Helps 
to Vision. — Influence of Suggestion on Sight. — Influence 
of Feeling on Sight.— Influence of Will on Sight.— Illu- 
sions of Sight. 

CHAPTER VIII. 

Memoet and Imagination, 123-140 

Difference between Memory and Imaginatioa. — Thought and 
Memory. — Stages of Memory. — Memory as Retention. — 
Conditions of Retentive Memory. — Memory as Reproduc- 
tion, — Memory as Recollection. — Memo;:y as Recognition. 
— Kinds of Memory. — Art of Remembering. — Nature of 
Imagination. — Conditions of Imagination. — Reproductive 
and Productive Imagination. — Creative Imagination. — 
Kinds of Imagination. 

CHAPTER IX. 

Thought and Language, 141-157 

Discriminating Consciousness. — Physiological Conditions of 
Intellect. — Mental Activity in Discrimination. — Conscious- 
ness of Resemblance. — Consciousness of Diflference. — Com- 



XIV TABLE OF CONTETTTS 

parison. — Primary Judgment — Developed Processes of 
Thought. — Stages or Forms of Thought. — Nature of a 
Concept. — Kinds and Qualities of Concepts. — Logical Judg- 
ments. — Forms of Judgment. — Language and Thought. — 
The Nature of Language. — Words and Thoughts. — Origin 
of Language. 



CHAPTEE X. 

PAGES 

Beasoning and Knowledge, 158-174 

Reasoning in Perception by the Senses. — Nature of True 
Reasoning. — Nature of the Reason or " Ground." — Kinds 
of Reasoning — Forms and Figures of Reasoning. — Induc- 
tion and Deduction. — Principle of All Argument. — Tests 
of Reasoning. —Nature of Knowledge. — Belief and Knowl- 
edge. — Development of Knowledge. — Kinds of Knowl- 
edge 



CHAPTEE XI. 
Emotions, Sentiments, and Desires, 175-193 

Classes of Feelings. — Nature of an Emotion. — Primary 
Kinds of Emotions. — Development of an Emotion. — Emo- 
tions and Thoughts. — Complexity of the Emotions. — Pas- 
sions and Emotions. — Nature of the Sentiments. — Classes 
of Sentiments. — The Intellectual Sentiments. — The .^s- 
thetical Sentiments. — Kinds of the Beautiful. — The Ethi- 
cal Sentiments. — Nature of Conscience. — Nature of the 
Desires. — Kinds of the Desires. 



CHAPTEE XII. 
WiLii AND Charactee, 194-209 

Nature of Conation. — Conditions of Conation. — Kinds of 
Movement. — Nature of Volition. — Nature of Deliberation. 
— Resolution of Deliberation. — Faculties Employed in 
Will. — Nature of Choice. — Formation of Plans and Pur- 



TABLE OF CONTENTS XV 

poses. — Execution of Plans and Purposes. — Freedom of 
Will. — The Conception of Character. — Development of 
Character. 

CHAPTEE XIII. 

PAGES 

Temperament and Development, 210-224 

Doctrine of Temperament. — Kinds of Temperament. — Basis 
of Temperament. — Difference of the Sexes. — Effect of Age 
and Race. — General Principles of Mental Life. — The Prin- 
ciple of Continuity. — Principle of Relativity. — The Prin- 
ciple of Solidarity. — Principle of Final Purpose. 



PRIMER OF PSYCHOLOGY 

CHAPTEE I 

THE MIND AND ITS ACTIVITIES 

No one can fully understand what Psychology is, 
or how to study it, who has not already given much 
attention to this subject. And if we consult those 
whose business it is to inform us, we shall doubtless 
find some difference of views in their answers to both 
these questions. But the same thing is true, to a 
large extent, of every subject of study; for often 
the definitions which teachers give earliest to their 
pupils, or which the writers of books place upon 
their first pages, are among the last things to re- 
ceive general agreement from scientific investiga- 
tors. This is, to some extent, true of all the sciences ; 
and there are certain reasons why it is especially 
true of the science we are about to study. 

What is Psycholog^y? — In spite of all difficulties, 
however, it is possible to answer this question in a 
manner that will enable one to begin study with 
a fairly clear notion of both subject and method. 
Only it will be necessary to use some words in the 
definition, the meaning of which must be left to be 
made clearer as the study of the subject advances. 
In considering What is Psychology ? we may take 



2 PRIMER OF PSYCHOLOGY 

our start from any of the experiences of the daily 
life. For it is one advantage, at least, which this 
study has over all others, that its facts and speci- 
mens do not have to be sought at a distance or 
bought with money from those who have collected 
them — as is the case with botany, geology, physi- 
ology, etc. We all always carry the facts about with 
us ; we are ourselves the specimens to be studied. 

Let, then, any of the most familiar of one's experi- 
ences be taken as examples. Suppose, for instance7 
that while walking on the street the attention is 
attracted to some person approaching from a dis- 
tance. At first we cannot see this person clearly ; 
and so we ask ourselves the question : Who can 
that be who is coming this way in the distance ? It 
is likely that interest is now awakened to answer the 
problem we have thus set ourselves. We look more 
intently, and in the meantime think diligently whom 
this is like ; or who it is probable would be coming 
this way at this particular time. Soon the features 
and the dress are discerned more perfectly ; but as 
yet we cannot recognize the person or give to him 
his name. As might popularly be said : we cannot 
"imagine" who this can possibly be. All at once, 
however, recognition takes place; it comes into 
our minds that this is Mr. X., whom we met at the 
sea-side last summer, and with whom we remember 
to have spent some hours in rowing or lawn tennis. 
Thereupon a feeling of pleased gratification takes 
tho place of the previous feeling, which was that of 
being interested and yet puzzled and thoughtful in 



THE MIND AND ITS ACTIVITIES S 

the effort to remember. We immediately make 
plans to invite him to dinner and to show him about 
the town ; but remembering now that we have an 
engagement already made which we ought to keep, a 
change of feeling again occurs. And finally we 
choose between two possible courses, after a quick 
process of reasoning, in which we picture to ourselves 
the probable advantages or disadvantages of either 
course. 

The Point of View.^Experiences like those just 
described happen often enough in the life of every 
one. But they are not ordinarily regarded from the 
point of view which psychology takes. Should this 
particular experience occur with any one of us pre- 
cisely as it has been narrated, it would not be our 
own activities, as such, in which we should probably 
be interested. It would rather be the solution of the 
questions : Who is the person approaching ? What 
shall I call him 1 How shall I greet him "? and, 
What shall I do with him after we have met 1 which 
would interest us. That is, our problems would be 
" practical." They would have little or nothing to 
do with our own thoughts, feelings, and plans, as 
such ; but everything to do with the objects about 
which we were thinking, toward which our feelings 
were excited, or with reference to which we were 
planning. This ordinary practical point of view is 
sometimes called objective. 

Psychology, however, completely changes the 
point of view from which to regard all events like 
the foregoing. From its changed point of view 



4 PEIMER OF PSYCHOLOGY 

then let us briefly consider anew the same narrative. 
And, first of all, we notice that the narrative speaks 
of " attention " as being attracted and then willingly- 
fixed upon an object; of "perception," or the "knowl- 
edge " of what the object is, as being gained by use 
of the "senses" (in this case, the eyes), and by 
" thinking " and " remembering " until clear " recog- 
nition " takes place ; of " feelings " that change 
their character and tone of "pleasure" or "pain;" 
and, finally, of " plans " and " choices," and of the 
carrying of them out in courses of conduct. Now, 
attention, perception, thinking, rememhering, feeling, 
whether painful or pleasurctble, and planning and 
choosing — all of them, as such, and for their own sake 
— are the facts ivhich psychology studies. 

A Study of Relations — But let us return again to 
the narrative, and warm and enliven it by recalling 
something similar in our own experience. This 
narrative plainly implies what the examination of 
all experience proves — namely, that the different 
forms of experience (such as attention, perceiving, 
remembering, etc.) depend upon each other. The 
story, as it was just told, showed how the feeling of 
interest awakened and fixed the attention ; and how 
attention influenced the growth of perception. For 
if we had not been interested and attentive, we 
should probably have passed the person by without 
recognizing him. The story also showed how to 
notice likenesses and unlikenesses, and to imagine, 
to remember, and to think, are necessary in order to 
perceive things with a full recognition. It also 



THE MIND AND ITS ACTIVITIES 5 

showed how feelhigs of interest and of expectation, 
and the like, influence perceptions and thoughts ; 
and how, in turn, perceptions, memories, and 
thoug-hts influence the feelings. And, finally, feel- 
ings were seen to lead to plans and choices. Al- 
though, if we think of it in the right way, there was 
a sort of plan, or choice, implied in the very deter- 
mination to solve for ourselves the question. Who is 
that person in the distance? as well as in all the 
effort of attention and memory which finally led to 
the solution of this question. 

A Study of the Self.— Only a little more thought 
upon the meaning of our narrative is necessary to 
discover another fact which is very important to a 
correct understanding of the whole matter. If we 
ask ourselves, Whose was the perception, the think- 
ing, the feeling, the planning, etc.? we at once an- 
swer : " They were all Tnine, of course." / looked ; 
/ perceived ; / remembered ; / felt pleased or iduz- 
zled ; /formed the plans and made the choices. But 
now if the question be raised, How do you know 
this ; how do you know that the facts of perceiving, 
thinking, feeling, and planning, all belonged to your 
self ? the ordinary person would, probably, only stare 
in reply. But the stare would amount to saying, " It 
is quite beyond my power to conceive of such facts as 
these as belonging to any other being than a Self." 
Indeed, when I know that they are occurring, or 
remember that they have occurred, I know them and 
remember them only as "self-belonging." I am the 
subject of all the facts thus known or remembered by 



6 PRIMER OF PSYCHOLOGY 

me. This, then, is the point of view taken by psy- 
chology. It is called the subjective point of view. 
For psychology is a study of the experiences and 
doings of a " subject," or " self." 

We see, then, that psychology regards all the facts 
which it studies as connected together^ and as belonging 
to some so-called " subject,^' or person, which each one 
of tcs ordinarily calls " /," or " myself " Only by 
studying its facts in this subjective connection can 
it make any progress as a science. For the facts 
which it studies are these very thoughts, feelings, 
and plans, regarded by each subject of them, when- 
ever he regards them at all, as peculiarly his own. 

Consciousness and Mind. — Thus far we have spoken 
of several classes of those facts which psychology 
studies, such as facts of attention, of perception by the 
senses, of remembering, thinking, feeling, planning, 
and the like. But some term is needed which may 
be applied to them all in common. For certainly all 
these facts, considered as psychology studies them, 
really have something in common. We will now 
call that which belongs to them all in common, by 
the name " consciousness ; " and will leave the ques- 
tion as to what is meant by consciousness to be an- 
swered more id articular ly, if this is possible, later 
on. Attention, perception, memory, imagination, 
thought, feeling, and choice, may then all be called 
" forms of consciousness." Or, better, attending to 
anything, whatever it may be, perceiving anything, 
whatever the perceived object may be, remembering 
anything, whatever the particular thing remembered 



THE MIND AND ITS ACTIVITIES 7 

may be, etc., are all activities or '* states of conscious- 
ness." 

But it is we tliat are conscious in all these different 
forms ; it is we that perform all these different activ- 
ities, or exist in all these different states. To our- 
selves, regarded as capable of being- conscious and 
as actually being conscious in all these different 
forms, the name " Mind " (or " Soul ") may be given. 
And then the adjective *' mental " (or *' psychical ") 
may be applied to all these same facts, activities, 
and states. All of them taken together may then be 
spoken of as our mental life, as the life of the Self, 
or Mind. 

Definition of Psychology.— What has thus far been 
said may now be summed up in the following defini- 
tion: Psychology is the seience of the facts or states of 
consciousness, as such, and thus of the life of that sub- 
ject of the states lohich is called the Self or the Mind. 
As a science, it must not only describe the facts, tell 
what they are, and how they are distinguished from 
each other as like or unlike, but it must also explain 
them by showing under what conditions they occur, 
what order in occurrence they follow, and how the 
more complex and later ones depend upon those 
which are simpler and earlier. Psychology there- 
fore aims to describe and to explain the growth of 
mental life. 

How to Study Psychology — The question of Method 
in this science, as in any other, is simply the quesr 
tion how best to find out what the facts are, and then 
to explain them. But the very nature of the facts 



8 PRIMEK OF PSYCHOLOGY 

with which psychology deals makes its method 
peculiar. The only way to find out any class of facts, 
as facts, is, of course, to observe them ; in order to 
describe them as they actually are, as well as to 
explain them in the form in which they require to be 
explained, it is necessary to observe the facts accu- 
rately. Now, properly speaking, no one can observe 
the facts of your consciousness but yourself, whose 
conscious facts they are ; and the same thing is true of 
me and the facts of my consciousness ; and so of every^ 
conscious mind. For example, I may know or guess 
that you have the pain of toothache, or that you are 
happy in the expectation of a visit from a friend, by 
the signs upon your face or because you tell me it is 
so ; but you alone can be immediately aware of the 
pain or of the pleasure. Twenty persons, or more, 
may see you blush or turn pale; but no one but you 
can observe the fact of your own conscious shame or 
fear or anger. What you think, or imagine, or remem- 
ber, you may commit to speech or to paper, and thus 
inform others about the character of your states of 
consciousness ; but jow. alone of all the people in the 
world stand face to face with them, as states of your 
consciousness. 

Self-consciousness or Introspection — The immediate 
awareness of one's own states of mind is called " self- 
consciousness." And no other way of direct observa- 
tion is possible for those facts with which psychol- 
ogy deals. It has already been seen (p. 6f.) that these 
facts are facts of consciousness ; subjective facts 
they were also called, because they had to be thought 



THE MIND ATTD ITS ACTIVITIES 9 

of as having one subject for them all, the so-called 
" self," or mind. And it now appears that the only 
method of direct observation is similar to the facts 
to be observed ; the method also may then be called 
subjective. In plain language, this only means that 
every person knows his own thoughts, feelings, 
plans, etc., as his own, and in an immediate manner, 
which is impossible for any one else than the subject 
of- those same thoughts, feelings, and plans. Or 
because this seems like the work of a sort of eye that 
looks directly in upon the conscious life, while all 
other eyes only see the signs of that life, this kind 
of observation is sometimes called " introspection " 
(" looking inward "). 

Sources of Psychology — To explain the facts of 
consciousness is a very different thing from simply 
to observe them. And, indeed, most people give so 
very little attention to their own mental life that 
they can scarcely describe clearly what its most 
obvious facts are. This peculiar kind of observa- 
tion, which the science of psychology requires, like 
every other kind of observation, is also a matter 
that may be cultivated, and in which different peo- 
ple have very different natural gifts. Nothing is 
more common than the experience which makes us 
aware how much better some understand their own 
thoughts, memories, and plans than others do. This 
difference is certainly not wholly due to a lack of 
power in certain minds to use language well ; it is 
also partly due to deficiency and lack of practice in 
self-observation. Moreover, practice makes perfect 



10 PRIMER OF PSYCHOLOGY 

here as everywhere else. We all may g-row in self- 
knowledge as in every other form of knowledge. 
Thus it comes about that certain individuals ac- 
quire rare skill in observing-, describing, and untan- 
gling all the intricacies of their own conscious states. 
They, too, thus become fit to describe and explain 
the conscious states of others far better than can the 
subjects of these states themselves. 

The next thing to be noticed is that all men con- 
stantly and inevitably give external signs as to what 
their own states of consciousness are. Only in this 
way can men communicate with each other at all. 
Everything that any man does or says may thus be- 
come a means by which others know, or guess, his 
facts of consciousness, the character of the flow of 
his mental life. Now, all these manifestations of 
consciousness become sources for the student of psy- 
chology. For, we repeat, all that any man does and 
says may be considered as a sign of his mental life. 
Psychology, then, studies the facts of infant and 
child life, and even of the life of the lower animals. 
It observes the behavior of idiots and of insane 
persons, of criminals and of persons in natural or 
hypnotic sleep ; just as the physiologist learns about 
the behavior of the organs of the human body by 
studying them when they are acting in an unusual 
or diseased way. All literature, too, is of course 
the expression of human thought and feeling. And 
so the student of psychology learns much from ob- 
serving the pictures of life which great writers of 
dramas and novels — like the "Antigone" of Sophocles, 



THE MIND AND ITS ACTIVITIES 11 

or the " Hamlet " of Shakespeare, or George Eliot's 
*' Adam Becle " — have drawn. Some biographies also 
afford valuable sources of psychological science. 

Experiment in Psychology.— Some of the facts vdiich 
psychology studies can be subjected to experiment ; 
by this it is meant that they can be produced at will, 
and in such way as the more easily and carefully to 
observe and minutely to explain them. Among these 
-experiments a great many can be loerformed by any 
one upon himself. Thus any one is able, not only to 
acquire the habit of observing his own mental life as 
it flows on spontaneously, but also to direct its flow 
in certain channels for the express puri^ose of observ- 
ing the conditions that govern it. For example, one 
can close one's eyes and see whether one can, by will- 
ing it to be so, make a colored cross or circle appear 
before one. Or we can assist each other in experi- 
menting to see, for instance, how far apart the 
points of a pair of dividers must be in order to be 
distinguished as two, when we are blindfolded, on 
the different areas of the skin. Other experiments 
require very elaborate apparatus, such as will meas- 
ure time to the one-thousandth of a second. Hence 
psychological laboratories are being founded, of 
which there are already twenty or more in this 
country. 

Yet, again, the student of psychology, by taking 
the simpler movable pieces of apparatus around with 
him, may experiment upon a large number of per- 
sons ; or by sending out circulars with questions to 
be answered (although this latter mode of inquiry 



12 RIMER OF PSYCHOLOGY 

g-ives very doubtful results, since it is impossible 
carefully to guard the conditions of sucli experi- 
ments). A g-ood example of this sort of experimen- 
tal study of the mind is to be found in the work, dur- 
ing- the past year, of a Yale graduate student, who, 
with simple but skilfully devised apparatus, tested 
thirteen hundred school-children to see how their 
powers of discrimination developed in dependence 
on age and height and sex, etc.; and how the esti- 
mate of their teachers respecting their brightness or 
dulness corresponded with his results. 

But, plainly, much of our mental life cannot be 
subjected to experiments in this way, or, indeed, in 
any manag*eable way. How, for example, should 
one test, with laboratory methods and apparatus, the 
higher and more complex feelings and choices, the 
thoughts about duty and God, and the elaborate 
plans we form, for to- morrow or for our entire lives ? 

Method in Psychology. — After the facts and simpler 
conditions of mental life are ascertained in the ways 
that have been described, the method of building up 
the science of psychology does not differ greatly 
from that which the other sciences employ. That is, 
we use " hypotheses," or shrewd guesses at the most 
probable explanations ; we derive " laws " from the 
careful study of great numbers of facts, and then test 
the laws by experiment, or by trying to explain by 
them newly discovered facts ; and so gradually we 
arrive at a more complete picture of the whole de- 
velopment of mental life and of the conditions on 
which it depends. 



THE MIND AND ITS ACTIVITIES 13 

The Faculties of the Mind. — When one begins to 
consider the different facts of mental life in a way 
seriously to study them, one is at once impressed 
with their great variety. One class of these facts, 
however, separates itself pretty readily from the 
others ; and this is the knowledge obtained through 
the senses. What belongs to all such knowledge in 
common seems to be just this, that it all comes 
through the senses. But how really different are the 
impressions of the different senses ! And what real 
likeness has the blueness of the sky to the smell 
of a rose ; or the redness of the rose, even, to its 
own soft, velvety feel and delicate perfume? And 
in the case of the same sense : how is the smell of 
the rose like that of asafoetida, except that both 
impressions are received by sniffing in the air 
through the nose ? 

Now, however, let it be considered that all these 
impressions of sense cover only one part of our 
mental life. There are our thoughts, which are 
about so many different things, partly about impres- 
sions of seuse and partly of quite another order. 
There are also our feelings, which are not all of the 
bodily kind, or such as go with the use of the 
senses ; but are some of them of an ideal order, such 
as occur when we are reading admiringly of the 
heroes of the past, or are grieving over lost oppor- 
tunities, or are craving lovingly the friendly pres- 
ence of some absent companion, or are thinking of 
the heavenly joy of some one already forever de- 
parted. How indescribably manifold are our feel- 



14 PRIMER OF PSYCHOLOGY 

iiigs ! It is just this, in part, which makes them so 
hard to tell to others. 

The word " faculties " is commonly used for the 
principal modes of the activity of the mind as they 
are experienced in adult life. Such are, for example, 
perception, memory, imagination, thought, and the 
like. But these are all complex and highly devel- 
oped forms of the same mental life ; and, as we shall 
see, they all involve one another in a complicated, 
way. Thus we cannot have perception without pre- 
viously having developed and actually using at the 
time the powers of memory, imagination, and even 
thought. Again, we cannot think without remem- 
bering while we think ; neither can we plan or choose 
without both thinking and remembering. And yet 
in all these faculties, so called, the mind is one ; it 
is I that perceive, remember, imagine, think, feel, 
and choose. So that hy ^^facilities'' ive understand 
nothing hut the various co^mplex and developed modes 
of the mind's life. 

However, if we consider any one of our mental 
states, our particular modes of being conscious, we 
shall find that it always presents three sides or 
" aspects," as it were. In other words, we always find 
ourselves perceiving or thinking (" intelligizing ") 
about something, feeling somehow, and doing some- 
what. It may be said, then, that " intelligizing," 
feeling, and willing are the three elementary forms of 
all mental life. Yet here, again, it is we that exist, 
always as in some state of existence, with these three 
aspects in which our state may be regarded. And 



THE MIND AND ITS ACTIVITIES 15 

sometimes, as everybody knows, the intellectual 
aspect is more prominent, sometimes the feeling 
aspect, sometimes the aspect of willing*. It is this 
which is properly meant when Intellect, Feeling, and 
Will are spoken of as the three " Faculties " of the 
Mind. 

Benefits of Psychology — With persons who have any 
intelligent views about the matter, it is needless to 
argue the benefits of a scientific study of the human 
mind. Only with the aid of psychology can one to 
the fullest possible extent reap the benefits of the 
study of other forms of science. Language cannot 
be understood, literature cannot be a^Dpreciated, read, 
and interpreted, art cannot be profoundly compre- 
hended, and even the natural sciences cannot have 
their full import revealed, without a knowledge of 
the mind of man. And, indeed, how could this be 
otherwise, since all science itself is only the product 
of the human mind ? 

The practical benefits of psychology in influencing 
the science and art of education, the management of 
child-life, the instruction of idiots, the improvement 
of the vicious, criminal, and insane, are becoming 
more clearly recognized with every year of its pres- 
ent rapid advances. 



CHAPTEE II 

CONSCIOUSNESS AND ATTENTION 

In defining psycholog-y (p. 7) it was said that it 
is " the science of the facts or states of conscious- 
ness as such." And it had previously been said 
that the word *' consciousness " may be used so as to 
cover all the different kinds of facts which belong 
to the mental life — at least, so far as it is an object 
of observation and study. Still later we spoke of 
self-consciousness, or the attentive consideration of 
our own conscious states, as a mode of observation 
that must be employed to reach the facts which psy- 
chology investigates. But now the question may 
properly be asked: What is meant by the very 
words, "consciousness," "self-consciousness," and 
"attention"? A brief answer to this question will 
occupy us in the present chapter. 

Meaning of the Term Consciousness. — Only a mo- 
ment's thought is necessary to make it clear that, if 
the word " consciousness " be used to signify what 
is common to all the facts of mental life, and so to 
define psychology, this use of the word itself cannot 
be defined. This is true, for the very good reason 
that no more general terms exist by which to define 
this one. Such a result is no fault of the language 
which the science of mental life employs. For all 



COI^SCIOUSNESS AND ATTENTION 17 

definitions have to go back to terms that are too 
general and simple in contents to be themselves 
defined. What it is to be conscious can be so de- 
scribed, however, as to make it perfectly clear to 
every one who will appeal to his own experience. 
As one sinks gradually down into sleep, one becomes 
less and less conscious ; as one wakes up gradually 
from sleep, one becomes more and more conscious. 
If one dreams in sleep, then one's dream is a form of 
consciousness ; but if one ever sinks into perfectly 
dreamless sleep, then one becomes unconscious. 
When a man receives a severe blow upon the head, 
or is badly choked, he becomes unconscious. When 
he " comes to," he becomes conscious again ; it is 
consciousness " to " which he comes, as we figura- 
tively say. When one is very much alive mentally 
— " wide-awake " and in the highest use of one's pow- 
ers, as is sometimes said — then one is highly con- 
scious. That which rises and falls thus, that which 
is partially lost in almost dreamless deep and wholly 
lost in swooning " quite away'' that is consciousness. 
We see then, again, that this use of the word makes 
it a term for any and every fact of mental life, as 
such — as mere fact of mental life. 

State of Consciousness. — We must also appeal to ex- 
perience to make clear what is meant by a " state of 
consciousness." Actually, there is no part of the 
mental life that can be separated from the rest, and 
have an existence apart, as it were ; or that can be 
made the subject of investigation, as thus separated, 
even by ourselves, whose state it is. The thoughts, 
2 



18 PRIMER OF PSYCHOLOGY 

feelings, and purposes flow on in something like a 
continuous stream. This is why the mental life 
is sometimes called "a stream of consciousness." 
If the attempt is made carefully to observe any of 
the particular thoughts or feelings, then this very 
attempt results in changing the character of these 
thoughts and feelings ; and at once a new and dif- 
ferent state takes the place of the old. Still we 
know that we can by our ow^n activity consider a^ 
portion of our experience as though it were separ- 
able from the rest ; we can note its characteristics, 
and observe its relations to the rest of the mental 
life. Thus, for example, I can know that a moment 
ago my tooth was aching horribly ; that now the pain 
is less intense ; and, presently, that it has stopped, 
and that I am looking out of the window at the pass- 
ers-by, or thinking of my neglected w^ork, or plan- 
ning to start on a journey to-morrow. 

By a " state of consciousness," then, we mean such 
a portion of the actual coiisdons life as we can, hy our 
own conscious act of discrhnination, consider as one, 
both loith respect to lohat it is, and also with respect to 
its relation to other states of the same mental life. 

Field of Consciousness. — Other terms may be sug- 
gested to show the different respects in which the 
different states of consciousness vary, in a more or 
less figurative way. Among such terms is the word 
" field." If we consider attentively any one state 
of mental life, and compare it with others which are 
very greatly unlike it, we shall see what this figure 
of speech really means. Sometimes the mental life 



CONSCIOUSNESS AND ATTENTION 19 

has a much greater richness or variety than at other 
times. For example, at one moment I may be " all 
occupied " in one thing- for a considerable time ; " ab- 
sorbed in" some one idea, or " overwhelmed" with 
some pain, or " taken up " with some joy. At another 
time an unusual variety of objects seems to be so 
rapidly noted and compared, that the total im- 
pression of their likeness and unlikeness constitutes 
one state of varied observation. Such a "field of 
consciousness " might be said to have a greater 
extent, or wider circuit, than others. This is, 
however, a matter of degrees ; for — as will be seen 
later on — all mental states are complex to a greater 
or less degree. Again, and especially if we are in a 
condition of strong feeling, the intensity, or amount 
of our selves, of our actual mental life, entering into 
the particular state is much increased. Thus states 
of predominating pain are more or less intense ; 
and even our thinking processes and activities of 
will seem much more vigorous, as it were, at some 
times than at others. The S2:)eed, too, with which the 
different states follow each other varies greatly. We 
seem to get over more ground in thought, or live 
through more feeling, or do more planning, in some 
rare moments of our lives than in the whole of ordi- 
nary hours. And, finally, the character of the differ- 
ent fields of consciousness varies greatly. Some of 
our states are chiefly states of knowledge, others of 
feeling, others of willing. And in each of these three 
classes we recognize distinctions which lead us to 
speak of some of them as nobler or higher than others. 



20 PEIMER OF PSYCHOLOGY 

It appears, then, that the fields of consciousness dif- 
fer among themselves in respect of (1) extent, (2) inten- 
sity, (3) S2^eed, and (4) specific qucdity or character. 

Extent of Consciousness — The number of impres- 
sions which can be " grasped together " and united 
by the mind into one field of consciousness varies, 
of course, for different individuals, with different 
conditions of body and mind, and with different de- 
grees of the same individual's development. The 
story is told of one poor stupid soldier, for example, 
who never could be made to remember together 
more than two of the three substances out of which 
gunpowder is made. How different this from the 
mental grasp of the most gifted and highly trained 
minds ! 

This is one of the questions which can best be 
subjected to experiment. And experiment shows 
that fifteen or sixteen successive impressions of 
sound can be so grasped together as to allow of 
distinguishing the field of consciousness which 
unites them from another field similarly constituted. 
If a number of objects are briefly displayed to the 
eye, it is found that five or six are as many as most 
persons can clearly distinguish. The same number 
of impressions, or in some cases even eight, when 
made by simultaneously pressing different areas of 
the skin, can be received in one field of conscious- 
ness. 

Intensity of Consciousness — If consciousness is con- 
ceived of as a sort of mental energy, or an amount 
of mental life, then the different states may be 



CONSCIOUSNESS AND ATTENTION 21 

spoken of as having- "more" or "less" of it. Pains 
and pleasures, for example, are commonly regarded 
as great, or moderate, or small. So men's convic- 
tions, hopes, fears, and expectations may be consid- 
ered as varying in intensity. The amount of effort 
which is put forth in some deeds of will appears far 
greater than that put forth in other deeds of will. 
And even different ideas (though this has been dis- 
puted) plainly vary in vividness. 

Speed of Consciousness. — Experiment has clearly 
shown — what observation of our ordinary experience 
suggests — that it takes time even " to come to con- 
sciousness," as it is customary to say. There is 
probably a certain amount of time which is most 
favorable for every person to reach the highest 
stage of the activity of the mind; and for some 
persons this time is markedly shorter than for 
others. This period is increased when the com- 
Iplexity of the mental acts to be performed is in- 
creased. "For example, it will take the average per- 
son from one-tenth to two-tenths of a second, after an 
impression has been received upon the eye, to touch 
a key connected with an electrical current and so 
record the fact of the impression having been re- 
ceived. But if it is required to be conscious, 
whether the impression is that of red, or of blue, or 
of green, the time required may be twice as long. 
About three-quarters of a second is with most per- 
sons the time for "making u-p one's mind" most 
accurately in a not too complex case of judgment. 

The rate at which the discernibly different states 



92 PRIMER OF PSYCHOLOGY 

of consciousness follo\\ each other also differs 
greatly in different individuals and at different 
times. Some are constitutionally slow, others rapid 
in mental movement ; but no one can be more than 
about so slow or about so fast. 

Character of Consciousness. — The differences in the 
complex character of our different conscious states 
have already been referred to sufficiently. It is 
chiefly this which makes us speak of them as really 
different states ; as, for example, of perception, mem- 
ory, imagination, hope, joy, deliberation, etc.; or of 
knowledge, feeling, or will. 

Conditions of Consciousness. — There are certain phys- 
ical conditions on which being conscious at all is 
known to depend, and which also determine largely 
the character, intensity, and time-rate of conscious- 
ness. The most important of these is the character 
of the blood circulating in the brain. If the pure 
arterial blood is shut off from the brain, conscious- 
ness ceases. If only impure blood is brought to the 
brain, then consciousness is impaired or troubled ; 
the extent of the mental grasp may be diminished 
and its intensity and speed of movement lowered. 
There are also reasons for supposing that all con- 
sciousness implies the destruction of the tissue of 
the brain, and then its restoration by nourishment 
brought to it in the blood. And the more intense 
the activity of consciousness, the more rsipid the de- 
composition of the tissues of the brain. Intense 
emotions are especially exhausting to the brain; 
and " whipping up " the train of ideas to a more 



CONSCIOUSNESS AND ATTENTION 23 

rapid than their natural pace is almost equally so. 
Surely this is something- which we Americans need 
to keep constantly in mind. " Living* fast " is no un- 
meaning figure of speech here ; it is only another 
name for letting death continually get the start of 
life. 

And would you know how marvellously compli- 
cated and delicate is this mechanism of the brain, on 
whose integrity and continued sound working all the 
life of consciousness depends? Why, then, believe 
me, there is something almost incredible about this. 
All the stars in the universe, so far as modern astron- 
omy can reveal them, are few in number compared 
with the nervous elements concerned in the working 
of a single brain ! And as to the delicacy of this won- 
derful piece of apparatus : one observer claims that 
the passage of a cloud over the sun will change the 
rhythm in breathing and the pulse-rate of a sleeping 
child ; and if we expose the brain, its whole bulk can 
be seen to swell when a lamp is approached to the 
patient's eyes. The incredible delicacy of some of 
the senses can be accounted for only as it is due to 
the delicacy in structure of the brain. 

Attention — What is called *' attention" is the prin- 
cipal mental condition which determines the entire 
character of every field of consciousness. For oil 
OUT conscious ^states are characterized by some degree and 
kind of attention. Even our '' inattention," so-called, if 
there is any consciousness of anything left, is really 
attention to something else than that to which, or, 
in some less degree, than that in which, we ought to 



24 PRIMER OF PSYCHOLOGY 

be attending-. Tlie idle school -boy is not now at- 
tending- to Lis lessons, because lie is attending to 
something- outside the window, or to his plans for 
trout-fishing next Saturday afternoon. Even when 
it is a case of being- boxed on the ears, or of having 
fallen down and bruised our shins, we recognize the 
effect upon our total condition of consciousness from 
the attention we are compelled for a time to give. 
This is what is meant when it is said to children that 
are crying from similar pains : '' Do not mind it and 
it will not hurt you so much," Indeed, it often hap- 
pens that they themselves become so much interested 
in their own crying as quite to forget the pains which 
originally caused it. And every skilful nurse or 
mother knows the effect of drawing off the attention 
and fixing it upon a lump of sugar or upon the 
promise of a treat to-morrow. 

Distribution of Attention — Now, since every field of 
consciousness is more or less complex, all of the at- 
tention cannot be given at the same time to any one 
part of it, or to any one object of the several which 
are grasped together to make up that very field. 
Moreover, while the objects remain essentially the 
same, we may attend, now chiefly to one, and now to 
another, of the several objects in the same field. 
And still further, as the stream of consciousness 
flows on, and one state succeeds another, attention 
may become fixed upon new objects of sense or upon 
new states of thought and feeling of our own. This 
constant variation in the amounts of attention given 
to the different objects in each state, or to the differ- 



CONSCIOUSNESS AND ATTENTION 25 

ent states considered as wholes, is called the " dis- 
tribution of attention." 

Rise and Fall of Attention. — But the total amount 
of attention is by no means the same for all the dif- 
ferent mental states. And as has just been seen, the 
amount of attention "fixed" upon any one thing- 
constantly varies. Indeed, it is not possible to hold 
the attention at a perfectly steady strain for as much 
as a minute, or for half that time. All attention is 
more or less inconstant ; often it is rhythmical, ris- 
ing and falling off with considerable regularity of 
period. 

If, for example, we hold a ticking watch at the 
right distance from the ear, in spite of all our efforts 
some of the ticks will drop out of consciousness. 
This is not because the intensity of the sound actu- 
ally made varies so much ; it is rather because we 
become relatively inattentive every few seconds. If 
we look at a gray disk revolving, it will appear to 
be now somewhat lighter and then darker, for the 
same reason. Some experimenters have found differ- 
ent periods for the fluctuations of different kinds of 
sensation ; for instance, 3 to 3.4 seconds for sensations 
of the eyes, and 3.5 to 4 seconds for those of the ear. 
Our memory-images oscillate in the same way ; and 
so, apparently, does our maximum power of giving 
attention. At any rate, in learning anything "by 
heart," in spite of our best endeavors, we learn best 
" by spurts," as it were. 

Conditions of Attention — Since attention is the 
amount of mental energy, or energy of consciousness, 



26 PRIMER OF PSYCHOLOGY 

devoted to all, or to each one, of the objects in the 
field of consciousness, the condition of the brain is 
very imi3ortant in determining the attention. At- 
tention implies work being done in the hrain ; and 
attention is itself indispensable to all mental worh. 
The waste of the brain's tissue has been found to 
correspond in some sort to the amount of mental 
work done with accompanying- strain of attention. 
The change in the character of our breathing when 
we are very attentive, the sigh we sometimes give 
after we have been " breathless " with attention, all 
point to the exhaustion of the nervous centres. A 
person strictly attending to any object will some- 
times sweat copiously even when sitting still in a 
cool room. Good blood, abundant sleep, and a 
sound, well - nourished brain are particularly re- 
quired by those who wish to be able to " attend 
to " their work, whatever it may be. 

Kinds of Attention — There are ordinarily said to 
be two principal kinds of attention, — the voluntary 
and the forced or involuntary. In somewhat extreme 
cases of either kind this distinction is not difficult 
to observe. Sometimes our experience is that of 
being forced or compelled to attend; and this hap- 
pens when strong sensations and highly painful or 
pleasurable feelings are aroused from without in our 
own consciousness. Who can help attending — one 
might ask — to the noise of the piano that goes with 
a crank, or to the pain of the sting from a bee ? And 
yet " absent-minded " people have been known to be 
so absorbed in attention to their own thoughts as to 



COTTSCIOUSNESS AND ATTENTION 27 

hold a hot poker in their hands and never "mind" 
the pain of burning. Sometimes, however, ive choose 
to attend to this rather than to any other thing- ; we 
consciously and designedly repel solicitations to at- 
tend to anything else; we bring our mind back 
again and again from its wanderings and deliber- 
ately fix it upon the chosen object. 

In fact, however, this important distinction turns 
out to be one wholly, or chiefly, of degrees. Even 
in yielding attention, whether impulsively or more 
smoothly and quietly, we feel that we are doing 
something. And there is plainly a passive side to 
all our states, even when we are most "free" in de- 
termining to what our attention shall be given. 

Attention and Discrimination. — The degree of atten- 
tion we give, whether forced or voluntary, has much 
to do with our noticing distinctions ; and, indeed, 
with the very existence of our sensations and ideas 
in their varied forms. It also determines largely 
how we shall interpret our sensations. Eepeated 
acts of attention " clear up " any object. Thus if a 
disk, having on it differently colored spots or lines 
or different letters, be displayed a brief time, the 
utmost attention will on the first trial enable us to 
discern perhaps only some three or four of these 
objects. But soon by repeated acts of attention a 
larger number of the objects is clearly seen after the 
disk has been displayed for the same length of time. 

What is called "expectant attention." has also a 
great influence on our mental states. If one knows 
about what is going to he seen, or heard, or felt, one 



28 PRIMER OF PSYCHOLOGY 

can in the same amount of time actually discern 
much more clearly what is seen, or heard, or felt. If 
I have expectant attention focused to hear some 
sound, then I am ready to discriminate, by attention, 
whether the sound is a or aj^, or whether it is the 
sound of a violin or of a cornet. Expectation will 
even create sensations ; thus in the laboratory it is 
easy to make most persons feel a wire to be warm, 
for example, when its temperature is not actually, 
raised, if only they are deceived into thinking that 
a current of electricity is now passing* through the 
wire. Many illusions are explained in this way; 
what is expected — especially if it be with fear or 
hope — that is likely to be actually experienced. Al- 
most any person seems to be the approaching form 
of our friend, if we are looking- for him with expec- 
tant attention. 

Attention and Feeling — The effect of the feelings 
on attention is one of the most familiar of all experi- 
ences ; it is also one of the utmost practi<?al impor- 
tance. It would not be a wholly unmeaning figure 
of speech if it were to be said that the different ob- 
jects of sense, as well as the different ideas, are 
always involved in a sort of " struggle for exist- 
ence." They are all striving together for the mind's 
attention. But other things being at all equal, 
those get the attention, and so survive over the 
others in this struggle, that are most infer esting. 
But " interest " itself is a form of feeling. Any form 
of interest will serve this same general purpose. It 
may be that the thing which awakens the interest is 



CONSCIOUSNESS AND ATTENTION 29 

" horrible," " disgusting"," " repulsive," or that it is 
"pleasant," "agreeable," "attractive." Thus one 
sometimes sees groups of children gazing with at- 
tention transfixed upon the very things that fill them 
with terror. The novel-reader cannot tear herself 
away from the dreadful story. More than half the 
power to get themselves read, which the details 
of accident and crime in the newspapers possess, 
comes from this psychological principle. Teachers 
know, as do also showmen and street-pedlers, that it 
is necessary to excite the feeling of interest in order 
to secure attention. In some cases of insanity the 
patient comes so under the power of some su- 
premely interesting idea that he cannot force him- 
self away from it, no matter how painful and horrid 
the idea may be. 

Conversely, as we have already seen (p. 24), our 
feelings themselves depend for their duration and 
intensity very largely on the way we attend to them. 
The lessons of the greatest practical importance, 
which follow from this relation of attention to feel- 
ing, are almost too obvious to need mention. Noth- 
ing in the care of our own lives, or of the lives of 
others, requires greater study than how to enlist the 
best and strongest feelings on the side of attention 
to the most important and valuable subjects. . 

Attention and Will. — It has already been pointed out 
that attention is never wholly passive ; it is always, 
in one aspect, a form of our own doing. It is there- 
fore always, in some sort, a manifestation of will, 
in the widest meanino: of this word. And in the 



30 PRIMER OF PSYCHOLOGY 

form of the most truly " voluntary " attention, it 
seems to be one and the same thing with what we 
call "will." 

Nature of Attention — We are now in position bet- 
ter to understand what is meant by this important 
word " attention." Plainly, it is not to be thought of 
as some one faculty that can be separated from the 
others ; much less as a sort of abstract power set 
apart from ourselves as alive and active. It is rathe^ 
a most general form of all our mental life. I attend 
to everything in mind, and I mind everything to which 
I attend. In other words, that distribution of the 
amount of mental energy to the different parts and 
objects in my field of consciousness, which is partly, 
but only partly, under my conscious control, and 
which is so dependent on the feeling of interest, is 
attention in its most primary form. Only if this he 
so can I learn to choose, within limits, what I will mind, 
and really to Quind that to which I choose to attend. 

Self- Consciousness. — It may now be made somewhat 
clearer what is meant by '' self-consciousness ;" and 
what is the difference between consciousness and 
seZ/'-consciousness. The former word has already 
been said (p. 16f.) to stand for every kind of men- 
tal state, every form of the life of feeling, knowing, 
and willing, as distinguished from unconsciousness, 
which is just the absence, or ceasing to be, of every 
kind of feeling, knowing, and willing. But it has 
also been shown (p. 18) that we ourselves know 
what these states, these feelings, thoughts, percep- 
tions', plans, etc., actually are, only as we are conscious 



CONSCIOUSNESS AND ATTENTION 31 

<9/them. That is, the facts which psychology stud- 
ies are all facts of consciousness, as such. But they 
are all immediatelj^ known by ourselves only as we 
are 5<s^-conscious. 

It appears also that we must attend in order to 
know any object whatever in the stream of con- 
sciousness. This is as true of our own thoughts, feel- 
ings, and plans as it is of trees and horses and flow- 
ers. But sometimes attention is directed upon 
things and happenings *' outside of" our mental 
life ; and only sometimes is it much directed upon 
" our own " thoughts and feelings and plans. And 
thus the distinction arises between consciousness 
and self-consciousness. For example, sometimes 
I am watching a team passing, or looking at some- 
thing under a microscope, or viewing the trees in my 
garden, or studying a lesson, or observing a land- 
scape or a iDicture ; then I am conscious — highly so ; 
I certainly am not half-conscious, as in dreams, or 
unconscious, as in a fainting-fit. But, at another 
time, I am watching just as carefully my own sensa- 
tions, griefs, joys, or ideas and plans as they form 
themselves and come and go ; then I am self-con- 
scious—highly so. 

But the rest of this subject must be left to be more 
fully understood later on. 



CHAPTEK III 

SENSATIONS 

The states of consciousness plainly depend upon 
the condition and action of certain important parts 
of the body, and upon the way these parts are re- 
lated to external things and to the forces of nature. 
For example, one is consciously in quite a different 
condition when one is in a dark room, or with one's 
eyes closed, from that which one experiences in the 
light with wide-open eyes. Consciousness is also 
greatly modified when a train of cars rumbles by, a 
door slams, or a iDeal of thunder occurs ; and it is 
modified in a still different manner when a load is 
laid upon the back, an insect creeps over the skin, or 
a hot whiff of air from the furnace strikes us. But all 
such forms of change in the conscious states come, 
as abundant experience proves, through the action 
of the senses, such as the eyes, the ears, and the 
skin. 

Nature of Sensation. — It can never be told, from a 
direct inspection of consciousness alone, what a shn- 
ple sensation is. This is true for the ver}^ good reason 
that no one ever has an experience of simple sensa- 
tions, as such. For example, consciousness never 
consists simply of the feeling of blueness or redness, 
or of heat or cold, or of sweetness or sourness. But 



SENSATIONS 33 

I may see some object that is blue or red ; or I may 
touch some thing- that is hot or cold ; or I may 
taste some substance that is sweet or sour. Yet it 
has already been said (p. 7f.) that psychology stud- 
ies states of consciousness, as such. The sensa- 
tions, as psychology coAsiders them, may then be 
defined as tliose peculiar modifications of consciousness 
which are experienced In the use of the organs of sense. 
And how modifications of consciousness can be at 
the same time qualities of objects, so that we can 
call the sky blue, the iron hot, the sugar sweet, it 
must be an important ijart of the study of mental 
development to make clear. 

Origin of Sensations. — Strictly speaking, so far as 
psychology regards them, sensations originate in 
consciousness. They «r6— as has already been said 
— just this : peculiar modifications of our conscious 
mental life. But ordinarily they do not arise unless 
some of the organs of sense are excited by certain 
of those manifold forces of nature which are adapted 
to excite them. We say they do not ordinarily ; 
for sometimes persons see sights, hear sounds, 
smell odors, and feel touches that are not caused 
by any excitement of the external eye, or ear, or 
nose, or skin. Sometimes, also, the excitement of 
memory or imagination becomes so intense that its 
object is, as we say, " projected into space," and 
can no longer be distinguished from a real object of 
sense. But, ordinarily, sensations of light and color 
arise when the light reflected from colored objects 
strikes upon the eye ; sensations of sound, when the 
8 



34 PKIMER OF PSYCHOLOGY 

sound-waves from vibrating bodies beat upon tlie 
ear ; sensations of smell, when the particles floating 
off from smellable substances are drawn over the 
skin of the nose. These outside means of exciting 
sensations are called " external stimuli." "When 
sensations are excited by causes operating directly 
within the brain they are said to.be due to " internal 
stimuli." 

Classes of Sensations. — It is by no means so easy .as 
is ordinarily supposed to tell how many distinct 
kinds of sensations there are, and to assign each to 
the right class. The popular classification into the 
five senses of smell, taste, hearing, sight, and touch is 
plainly inadequate. For — to give instances: what 
is called the "taste " of things taken into the mouth 
really consists largely of smell ; what is called the 
" look " of things is partly touch ; and what is called 
" touch " is always a compound of various sensations. 
There are also many obscure modifications of con- 
sciousness which are due to the excitement of the 
mucous membrane, and perhaps of the muscles, 
inside the body ; while the excitement of the skin 
on the surface of the body gives rise to several dis- 
tinct kinds of sensations. Even within the limits of 
what is styled the " same sense," there seems often 
to be little real likeness among the different modi- 
fications of our conscious states. Why should sour 
and sweet, for example, be said to belong to the 
same sense, except that they both come through the 
tongue ; or heat and cold, except that both come 
through the skin ? 



SENSATIONS 35 

The principle on which the popular classification 
is based considers simply the different organs — 
nose, tongue, ear, eye, and skin — through whose ex- 
citement the sensations are produced. Now, if we 
retain this principle of classification, and divide the 
sensations of the skin into the two great unlike 
classes which this organ produces, and then add two 
other iinportant kinds which recent study has dis- 
covered, we shall have the following list : Sensations 
of Smell, of Taste, of Sound, of Light and Color, of 
Pressure, of Temperature, and of the Muscles and 
Joints. Each of these will now be considered very 
briefly. 

Sensations of Smell — These sensations are pro- 
duced by exciting certain nervous structures that are 
situated in the lining of the upper region of the 
cavity of the nose. The stimulus is drawn in with 
the current of air (hence the intensity of smells is 
increased by "sniffing"); it consists of extremely 
minute particles which are called "effluvia," and 
which are thrown off from odorous substances. Long 
ago it was noticed that very small bits of camphor 
on the surface of water have a curious rotary motion ; 
something similar has now been observed in the case 
of several hundred smellable substances. Dogs can- 
not " track " game if paper is tied in front of their 
nostrils. 

Chemists do not as yet know much about the 
chemical causes of the different smells occasioned by 
different substances. And no means of classifying 
smells exist except by mentioning the names of the 



36 PRIMER OF PSYCHOLOGY 

things which produce them : as the " smell of a 
rose," or the " smell of sulphur ; " or by speaking of 
the invigorating or depressing effect they have upon 
us. Smell is in general the most animal and the 
least intellectual of all the sensations. 

Sensations of Taste. — It is the tongue, and in some 
cases the front part of the soft palate, by whose 
activity sensations of taste are occasioned. Ordi- 
narily the stimulus is applied by pressing it against 
the nervous structures in these parts, after it has 
been dissolved in the saliva or in some other fluid. 
We know almost nothing about those qualities in 
different tastable substances which fit them to excite 
the different sensations of taste. Among the princi- 
pal kinds of taste are the sweet, the sour, the salt, 
the bitter, the alkaline, and the metallic. Much of 
the "shading" of these sensations is due to the 
smells which accompany them ; as, for example, in 
the so-called " taste " of an onion, of chocolate, or of 
the different kinds of fruit. 

Sensations of Sound.— These sensations are usually 
occasioned by sound-waves in the air striking upon 
the drum of the ear. From the ear-drum the waves 
are carried, in the form chiefly of vibrations in a 
chain of bones, and then in certain fluids, to the 
peculiar nervous structures arranged in the "inner 
ear." But not a few sensations of sound are also pro- 
duced by changes going on in the parts of the body 
near to the ear. Such sounds are called " entotic." 
Among them are the sound of the beating of the 
heart, of the murmur in the lungs, of the crackling 



SENSATIONS 37 

noise caused by yawning, or the low musical tone 
that can be heard by pressing- the fingers in the ears 
and setting the muscles of the jaws vibrating in- 
tensely. 

Kinds of Sounds — All sounds may be divided into 
two classes — tones (or musical sounds) and noises. 
These, however, are generally mixed together and 
pass into each other. For few tones on the violin are 
not mixed with some noise, and the ax " rings " in a 
semi-musical way, while the harshest voice has a 
" pitch " of its own. If soap-bubbles of hydrogen are 
exploded, or stoppers pulled out of lead pipes of dif- 
ferent lengths, rapidly enough, musical sounds may 
be produced. It is the rapidity and regularity of the 
recurring vibrations which determine the musical 
character of sounds. But noises are produced by 
vibrations which lack this periodic character. 

Pitch of Tones — We know that musical sounds are 
all capable of being arranged in a sort of scale. 
Their quality is such that some of them seem to be — 
as the phrase goes — "higher" and some "lower" 
than others. The pitch of tones depends upon the 
rapidity of the vibrations which cause them ; the 
higher the pitch the more rapid the vibrations. If 
two tones, that are some distance apart, are sounded 
one after the other, then the ear will enable us to 
put another tone in between them, as it were. This 
seems due to an immediate power of the mind to dis- 
criminate differences in the quality of tones. Such 
power differs greatly in different persons; but it 
much exceeds, in most cases, the power of the per- 



38 PRIMER OF PSYCHOLOGY 

son to produce with the voice the same shading* in 
quality. Even Jenny Lind could scarcely sing in 
quarter tones ; but ordinary and untrained musical 
ears will readily distinguish far minuter differences 
of pitch than this. For example, experiment with 
a considerable number of children, of ages from six 
to nineteen, in the public schools of New Haven, 
showed that their power to make distinctions in 
pitch varied from 12.3 to 2.4 thirty -seconds of a 
tone. 

By the timbre of tones is understood that compound 
quality which depends upon the number, relative 
streng-th, and pitch of the simple tones which fuse 
together in the compound tone. The musical sounds 
of ordinary experience are all compound. It is by 
difference in timbre that any note, when sounded on 
a violin, is distinguished from the same note when 
sounded on a piano, or when sung by different 
voices. 

Noises, apart from the tones which blend with 
them, have neither pitch nor timbre ; they are 
divided into " crashing," " crackling," " hissing," 
etc., and cannot be arranged in a scale as musical 
sounds can. 

Sensations of Light and Color. — The eye is the organ 
of these sensations. It resembles the instrument 
which the photographer uses — the camera obscura ; 
but it is filled with fluids instead of air ; its lens ad- 
justs itself instead of having to be pulled out or 
pushed in by the operator; and the screen on which 
the " image " is made is a wonderfully delicate mem- 



SENSATIONS 39 

brane containing peculiar nervous structures. The 
light, even after being transmitted through the ball 
of the eye to the back part vrhere this screen (the 
" retina ") is placed, is not the immediate stimulus of 
the nervous part of the organ. The light only stirs 
up certain chemical changes in the structure of the 
retina, and these changes produce the nervous ex- 
citement. Nor is light the only form of stimulus 
for the eye ; as every boy knows who has fallen on 
the back of his head while learning to skate, and 
as all may experience by pressing gently on the 
closed eyeball, and so exciting what are called phos- 
phenes, or disks of light with darkly colored edges. 
If we close our eyes in the darkest room, we still see 
light and colors — the *' own-light " of the retina as 
stimulated by the blood which reaches it. 

Kinds of Visual Sensations — All sensations pro- 
duced by stimulating the eye are either of Light or 
of Color. That is, sensations of the eye may vary in 
intensity all the way through many shades of gray 
from deepest black to purest white ; or they may 
vary in those peculiarities of quality which are 
brought out so beautifully by passing the light 
through a spectrum and thus analyzing it. In all 
ordinary experiences, sensations of color and light 
are blended together. In other words, every color 
is more or less " bright " (or distant from pure white 
or pure black), and also more or less*" pure" (hav- 
ing a distinct " color-tone " corresponding to some 
place in the spectrum). The old division into seven 
colors is a mere conceit. The number of colors is 



40 PIIIMEK OF PSYCHOLOGY 

indefinitely great, and differs for different eyes, as 
tlie number of tones does for different ears. 

Mixing of Colors — Tlie quality of the colors of the 
spectrum depends upon the number of the oscilla- 
tions, in a second, of the waves of light which pro- 
duce them — ranging all the way from about four 
hundred and fifty billions for red to about seven 
hundred and ninety billions for violet. But, as has 
already been said, the different colors " shade into " 
each other, and so their number is indefinite. Th© 
peculiar and interesting fact, however, is that by 
" 'mixing " a comparatively small number of selected 
colors, all these different shades of color may be 
produced. Just how many such selected colors are 
necessary (that is, the number of ^'fundamental " col- 
ors) is still a matter of dispute. Helmholtz would 
reduce them to three — green, red or carmine, and 
blue or indigo-blue. Others think that six such 
colors are required — namely, three pairs, green and 
red, blue and yellow, and white and black.^ 

Now, the difference between shades of color and 
distinct color-tones is not perfectly clear ; neither 
are the limits of the analysis which the eye can per- 
form quite fixed. For example, almost any one can 
tell whether a color is Mue-gYeen or yellow-green, 
and perhaps guess before experience that if yellow 
is mixed with red, the red turns orange ; but few or 
none could predict that a little of black and of 

' The mixing of colors can be very satisfactorily studied by use 
of an inexpensive top made by Milton Bradley of Springfield, 
Mass. ; and called the " Bradley Color-top." 



SENSATIONS 41 

orange mingled with white, on a revolving disk, will 
appear seal-brown ; and all are astonished when they 
first learn that purple and green, or orange and blue, 
or violet and yellow-green, will produce white. Col- 
ors which when mixed in pairs produce white are 
said to be " complementary " of each other. Some 
of the bearings of these surprising facts will appear 
later on. • 

Sensations of Pressure All the areas of the skin 

seem to ordinary observation alike sensitive to press- 
ure, as such, although hard pressure upon them all 
is by no means alike painful. But recent experi- 
ments have shown that clear-cut and definite sensa- 
tions of pressure are only occasioned by exciting 
certain particular minute areas of the skin. These 
are called " pressure-spots." Such spots are found 
all over the body, arranged in chains, as it were ; 
they have different degrees of sensitiveness, and 
their number and degree of sensitiveness in any par- 
ticular large area determines the ability to discrim- 
inating touch which that area possesses. 

Sensations of Temperature It is one of the most 

astonishing discoveries of modern psychology that 
sensations of temperature originate through the 
stimulation of minute areas of the skin, and that 
these are different for the two kinds of temperature, 
heat and cold. There are, therefore, " heat-spots " 
and " cold-spots," and the arrangement of these is 
different with different individuals and for different 
areas of the body. Both kinds of temperature- 
spots have also different degrees of intensity in dif- 



42 PRIMER OF PSYCHOLOGY 

ferent localities. The same object feels cool to 
one spot and ice-cold to another. The temperature- 
spots and the pressure-spots do not seem ever to 
coincide. 

The facts with regard to both these last two 
classes of sensations may be brought out by study- 
ing the effect of touching different areas of the skin 
with a fine point of cork, wood, or metal. 

Muscular Sensations. — There appear to be sensory 
nerves which end in connection with the muscles, 
and which are excited by stretching and relaxing, 
by straining, and pressing hard upon these organs. 
These muscular sensations can be brought into 
consciousness by various experiments. If, for ex- 
ample, we place the tip of a finger against some firm 
object and then press harder and harder, we not only 
feel the skin-sensations creep up the arm, and the 
sensations due to the joints being squeezed to- 
gether, but also certain sensations which lie deeper 
down in the muscles. Experiment also shows that 
muscular sensibility is sometimes " lost when that of 
the skin is retained ; and sensibility of the skin is 
sometimes lost when that of the muscles is re- 
tained. But, although the two are not the same, 
sensations of the skin and those of the muscles are 
constantly blended together in all the use of the 
bodily members. Probably muscular sensations 
differ only in rather a gross way among themselves ; 
so that they serve to measure relatively large 
amounts of movement only. An exception must be 
made, however, in the case of the eye, whose mus- 



SENSATIONS 43 

cl-es are capable of being trained for astonishingly 
fine discriminations. 

Sensations of the Joints. — The pressure and rubbing 
against each other of the membranes which line 
the joints occasion sensations that enable us to 
know how our limbs are placed. Thus one experi- 
menter found that a man with his hands held fast 
in a plaster cast could perceive a very small bending 
of the first joint of the finger when done by some 
one else. And if one notices carefully, one can dis- 
cover how the sense-consciousness changes with 
the increase or the lessening of pressure at the 
different joints of the body. 

Organic Sensations. — There are a great many obscure 
and mixed forms of sense-experience that originate 
in the condition and changes of the heart, of the 
lungs, the intestines, and other internal organs. 
Other sensations, having to do with the perception 
of the body's poise and balance, have been traced 
to certain parts of the ear ; for everybody knows 
how important the feeling of the position of our 
own head is for our judgment about the position 
of the entire body and of all things in relation 
to it. 

In brief, we see that our sense-experience is much 
richer and more varied than is ordinarily supposed. 
Indeed, it is indefinitely rich and varied, different 
for different individuals, and constantly growing 
with the cultivated use of the organs of sense. 

Causes of Difference in Sensations. — This indefinite 
number of sensations depends for its excitement 



44 PRIMER OF PSYCHOLOGY 

upon a number of varying causes. Or, in otlier 
words, the qualities of the sensations vary in de- 
pendence upon a variety of changing conditions. 
We shall now consider some of the more important 
of these conditions. 

Sensations and the Organism. — It has been seen 
(p. 36f.) that, ordinarily, sensations depend upon the 
excitement of the organs of sense by some form of 
external stimulus. But the relations between the par- 
ticular sensations and this excitement of the organ- 
ism are very complex. Thus the sense-experience of 
every individual is, so far as range of quality in each 
of the senses is concerned, peculiar to that individual. 
Among the varying conditions of the sensations are 
certain natural or acquired characteristics of the or- 
gans. Some persons have " no ear " for music, as is 
said ; they are " tone-deaf," and cannot distinguish 
semi-tones, or even intervals of a third. But others 
can recognize two hundred, distinctions of pitch be- 
tween successive tones in some parts of the ordinary 
scale. Some can hear tones (perhaps those pro- 
duced by sixteen vibrations) an octave lower than 
others ; or tivo octaves higher than the ordinary ear. 
Some are " color-blind ; " and such unfortunates have 
been divided into two groups, the " red-blind " and 
the "violet-blind" or "green-blind." An indefinite 
number of partial deficiencies in the color-sense 
must also be recognized. Experiment upon 1,300 
school-children in New Haven has shown that the 
power to distinguish fine differences in shades of 
red grows, in general, pretty uniformly with the age. 



SENSATIONS 45 

Similar differences in smells, tastes, and muscular 
and skin sensations exist. 

The part of the organ to wliich the stimulus is 
applied has also much to do with the quality of the 
sensation produced. This has already been seen 
(p. 41f.) to be true of the heat- and cold-spots and 
of the pressure-spots. If we hold our eyes steadily 
fixed in front of us, and move a red-covered book 
into the centre of the field of vision and then out 
again, we shall see that its color changes greatly; 
this is because the imago made by the same object 
varies in color as its position is moved from the 
centre to the outside of the retina. One observer 
found that red could thus be made to become orange, 
then violet, and then blue. The different parts of 
the retina are also differently sensitive to brightness 
or amount of white light. 

The quality of the sensation also depends upon 
the conditio?! of the organism as due to excitement 
that has just previously taken place. Smells and 
tastes, when they follow each other closely, influence 
each other greatly. A smooth surface feels smoother 
when we have just been feeling a rough surface ; a 
slightly rough surface rougher, when we come to it 
from feeling a smooth surface. But it is in the case 
of sensations of the eye that this principle is most 
important. If we look intently for a few seconds at 
any bright or colored object and then close the eyes, 
we find the "after-image" of this object going 
through a somewhat regular series of changes that 
fall under this principle. A black square on a white 



46 PRIMEE OF PSYCHOLOGY 

surface, when the eyes are turned off on a white 
background, appears bright at first and then slowly 
fades away. Contrast of brightness and contrast of 
color-tones also appear. A bright object is made 
brighter by darker surroundings ; while on a red 
ground, when covered with tissue-paper, it appears 
green, and on a blue ground it appears yellow. 
Emry sensation has its quality relative to the condition, 
just past and now present, of all the most closely 
connected parts of the organism. 

Quality of Sensations and of Stimulus. — It has al- 
ready been shown (p. 36f .) that the way our conscious- 
ness is affected depends upon the kinds of stimulus 
which excite the organs of sense. Sound-waves are 
the natural excitement for the ear ; light-waves for 
the eyes ; effluvia for the nose, etc. But within these 
classes of sensations a great variety of qualities is 
occasioned by differences in the quality of the 
stimulus. For example, further, if the relation be- 
tween the number of vibrations of two tones, in a 
second of time, is a simple one, then the result of 
sounding them together is a pleasing sensation of 
" harmony ; " if not, the result is a more or less un- 
pleasant sensation of " discord." The relation 1 : 2 
gives the Octave, the most perfect chord ; 1 : 3 gives 
the Twelfth ; 2 : 3, the Fifth, and so on. As the num- 
ber of light-waves increases, the quality of the color- 
sensations runs through all the sensations of the 
spectrum. 

Sensations and Time and Strength of Stimulus The 

time durins: which the stimulus acts has much to do 



SENSATIONS 47 

with the sensation that results. It takes some time 
to start off the senses and set the mind to acting, as 
it were ; and experiment seems to show that the dif- 
ferent color-tones require different fractions of a 
second to attain the same degree of clearness. Ex- 
tending the time of the impression will to some ex- 
tent make up for weakness of impression ; for there 
is a sort of "inertia" which belongs to the nervous 
apparatus. 

The quality of the sensations also varies with their 
strength ; for a strong odor of musk or of asaf oetida 
is by no means precisely the same in quality as a 
faint odor of the same substances. If any color or 
any shade of gray is brightened, a slightly different 
color is made of it. Intense sweet or sour, or bitter 
or salt, is a different thing from the moderate degree 
of similar tastes. And even the same note on the 
piano, when violently struck, yields a different qual- 
ity of sound. 

Intensity of Sensations — And yet everybody knows 
what a difference in mere degree or amount of essen- 
tially the same sensation is ; and we all apply the 
terms " strong," " weak," and " moderate " to our sen- 
sations with a X3erfect confidence. The strange thing 
about this is, however, that we are so unable directly 
to compare the amounts of our different sensations. 
Who would feel sure that one red is just exactly two 
and one-tenth times brighter than another of the 
same shade ; or who would make oath that the smell 
of the violet in his hand is precisely one-half as 
strong as his morning's cup of coffee ? We are very 



48 PKIMER OF PSYCHOLOGY 

sensitive, however, to minute variations in the degree 
of the same kind of sensations, when they occur un- 
der certain favorable conditions ; and in this way a 
law for measuring- the relation between the quanti- 
ties of the sensations and the quantities of the stim- 
ulus which causes them has been investigated with 
much loains. 

Weber's Law — The law to which reference was just 
made bears the name of this investigator; or it J^s 
sometimes called the "Law of Fechner." It affirms 
that the amount of our sensations does not vary 
clireGtly as the amount of the stimulus which occa- 
sions them ; but, on the contrary, that if we wish to 
get any appreciable increase in the sensation, we 
must add to the stimulus which produced the sensa- 
tion a constant proportion of the whole amount of 
stimulus. For example, suppose that I can tell the 
difference between the pressure of 30 ounces and 31 
ounces ; then, if I change to pounds of pressure, it 
will not do to add simply one ounce in order to pro- 
duce an appreciable change, but 1 pound must be 
added — that is, the same jDroportion of pounds as 
was previously necessary of ounces. 

Thousands of experiments in every kind of sensa- 
tion, under almost all conceivable conditions, have 
been conducted in order to test " Weber's law." The 
result has been to show that it is only apiDroxi- 
mately true for some of the sensations ; mostly for 
those of moderate intensity ; and that, as might be 
expected, a vast number of influences determine the 
estimate which every man puts upon the amount of his 



SENSATIONS 49 

sensations every time he actually estimates any of 
them. 

Limits of Sensation — Such experiments as the fore- 
going have made clear again (see p. 23) the mar- 
vellous delicacy of the nervous system. What is 
the least stimulus that will cause any sensation at 
all ? For some of the sensations, under the most 
favorable circumstances, the amount is almost in- 
credibly small. Thus a movement of the eye an- 
swering to a contraction of the muscle of only .0006 
of a millimetre can be detected. The noise made by 
a cork ball, weighing 1 milligram and falling 1 milli- 
metre, has been said to have been heard ; and 1 part 
of mercaptan to 50,000,000,000 parts of air has been 
smelled. In the light of these facts many of the 
alleged performances of mediums and hypnotic per- 
sons seem far from incredible. 

Complex Sensations — Already it has been repeat- 
edly assumed that all our sensations are compounds. 
The cold feeling of any body in contact with the 
skin results from the " fusion " of the effects of a 
great many "cold-spots." The feeling of the weight 
of any body which is lifted or carried results from 
the fusion of an indefinite number of sensations of 
skin, muscles, and joints, belonging to different 
areas of the body. Indeed, when we lift heavily, we 
feel our own changed respiration, the panting 
breath, the heaving chest, the inner strain, as well 
as the squeezed joints, hard-pressed skin, and taut 
muscles. In sight we also sense the objects with 
moving eyes, and this gives us a variety of nicely 
4 



50 PRIMER OF PSYCHOLOGY 

shaded muscular sensations. If the objects are very 
large, or are themselves in motion, then we have to 
" look at " them through the muscles of the head as 
we turn it, or even of the whole trunk. When we 
smell *' horrid " strong smells or nasty tastes, we gag 
and make wry faces, and thus feel the substances as 
much as we smell or taste them ; and every one 
knows the trick of " rolling a sweet morsel " imder 
the tongue, which not only presses its solution 
against the taste-bulbs, but increases the " massive- 
ness " of the pleasure by bringing in another sense. 

Local Signs. — It is a plausible theory then, if not 
an established fact, that all the various compound 
sensations which arise in consciousness may differ 
in the complex quality of their mixture ; and that 
this complex quality depends partly at least upon 
the areas of the organism that are excited to produce 
the sensations. Hence the complex sensations may 
serve as " signs " to the mind by which it judges 
where they are located. The name " local signs " is 
then a very convenient figure of speech. Of course, 
it must not be understood by this that the mind 
stands outside of the sensations, as it were, and thus 
judges them to belong to a given locality. The 
power of discrimination, which is mental, grows 
right along with the development of these complex 
sensations ; and so they are not mere sensations, but 
are also signs to be interpreted into relations of 
things. But all this can only be explained when we 
come to the subject of perception by the senses. 

Sensations of Motion and of Position. — The more 



SENSATIONS 51 

active org'ans of sense are most of the time in mo- 
tion ; or, if they are not themselves in motion, the 
substances or objects that excite them are moving 
over them. Hence we get a great many different 
series or successions of sensations that correspond 
to every variety of movement of the organs, or of 
objects over the organs. And every possible po- 
sition of the organs may in turn be the point of 
starting on a series of movements, or of stopping 
after a series of movements has been accomplished. 
Thus, so to speak, does the mind get acquainted with 
the body and with all its movable organs, in every 
variety of positions and in all the different possible 
courses of its movement. How sensations of motion 
and of position are useful in the acquiring of a 
knowledge of things will also appear later on. 



CHAPTEK IV 

FEELING 

It lias already been shown (p. 14f.) that we always 
find it possible to regard our mental life in three 
ways or ''aspects." For we are always actually 
not only perceiving something or thinking about 
something, but also doing somewhat and feeling 
somehow. It is this aspect oi feeling somehow which 
is now to be considered. Now, although feelings 
are never experienced alone, or separate from sen- 
sations, ideas, and plans, and although the char- 
acter of the feelings is dependent upon the sen- 
sations, ideas, and plans, they are not in nature 
the same. The pain which a bright light, a dis- 
cordant sound, or the memory of some loss or 
wrong-doing occasions, is a quite different mode of 
mental life from all sensations or memory-images, 
as such. 

Nature of Feeling. — It is plainly impossible to de- 
scribe what it is to feel in words so that another 
who has never felt a kindred form of feeling can 
perfectly understand it. If there are intelligences 
— like some of the angels, we will suppose-^that have 
never suffered or rejoiced, been surprised or disap- 
pointed, they can never be made to know what these 
feelings in us are like. All description is in some 



FEELiisra 63 

form of language ; and to one who does not feelingly 
sympathize with its " tone " language is only the 
expression of conceptions and thoughts. The very 
life and essence of feeling is in heing felt. This fact 
explains why it is that we are so at a loss to 
communicate our feelings ; why, when they are — 
as we think — peculiar to ourselves, we are so lonely ; 
and why feeling is called especially " subjective " 
(or belonging to the " self ") and never to be con- 
ceived of as a quality of things. 

It follows that all theories which simply aim to 
tell what are the bodily conditions of the vari- 
ous feelings, or what are the states of intellect 
in connection with which the feelings arise, mis- 
take entirely the problem. They tell nothing as 
to the true " nature " of feeling. For this we must 
all go to our own conscious life, and find and 
recognize it there. But it also follows that it is 
difficult, if not impossible, to classify the feelings, 
as such. That is, every classification only tells the 
conditions under which, or the occasions on which, 
the feelings actually arise. But to know what the 
feelings really are, there is no other way than by 
noticing them as they are felt. 

Conditions of Feeling — The physiology of the feel- 
ings is very obocure. As to what in the nervous 
processes determines whether our feelings shall 
be painful or pleasurable, something is known ; 
although the answer to even this problem is by 
no means so simple as is sometimes supposed. We 
shall speak of it later on. But what are the ner- 



54 PRIMER OF PSYCHOLOGY 

vous processes which correspond to and occasion 
the entire feeling-aspect of our mental life ? This 
is an important question ; but it is one that almost 
all students, both of physiology and of psychology, 
have either quite overlooked or else have answered 
in a far too shabby way. We shall now simply 
give our opinion, and let it stand for what it is 
worth in the estimate of expert scholars; for it 
would be difficult, or impossible, to make it per- 
fectly clear to others. ^^ 
There is always an excess of nervous excitement 
in the brain beyond that which can be so organ- 
ized as to serve as a basis for clear perceptions, 
ideas, and thoughts. The result of pouring upon 
the centres of the brain such a great mixture of 
nervous impulses that arise not only in the organs 
of sense, but also in the organs within the chest 
and abdomen and in the lower parts of the ner- 
vous system itself, is to produce a sort of "semi- 
chaotic surplus " of nervous energy in these centres. 
But the character of the nervous excitement 
already going on in these centres, as well as their 
habits of nervous action, helps to determine the net 
result — as is the case with all the nervous processes 
that stand related to our conscious life. Therefore, 
the hind and the amount of our feelings depends not only 
directly upon the hind and amount of the excitement in 
the hodily members of which we are distinctly aware, hut 
also indirectly upon this through the relation which such 
excitement sustains to our general sensibility. This is 
the reason why men differ so in their feelings when 



FEELING 55 

they have almost exactly the same sensations, ideas, 
and thoughts ; why feeling- is, as everybody knows, 
so capricious and little to be depended on ; why so 
often one cannot possibly tell why one feels as one 
knows one does feel, etc. But we will not at present 
dwell longer on this obscure matter in the physiol- 
ogy of the nervous system. 

Kinds of Feeling — Some authors would reduce all 
feeling to mere pleasure and pain. There would 
then be only two kinds of feelings, as feelings— 
namely, pleasure and pain; or — to make a useful 
compound word — all feeling is thus reduced to 
" pleasure-pain," and only this. No view, however, 
can contradict experience more flatly than this does ; 
and all experience, as well as all use of language, 
contradicts it. There can be no doubt that some of 
our sensations and thoughts are pleasant and some 
are painful — that is, there are pleasant feelings and 
there are painful feelings ; and whether there are any 
feelings which are "neutral," or neither pleasant nor 
painful, only experience can decide. It is also true 
that the word " feeling " is used in a very loose way ; 
and thus some sensations, especially those of touch, 
are spoken of as belonging to the " feelings," strictly 
so called. Thus we say : The msbrhle feels cool and 
the iron hot ; the velvet feels smooth and soft, and 
the stone hard and rough, etc. 

But in the sense in which the word is now used — 
namely, as. that aspect which all conscious life has, 
that is neither intellect nor will — ^feeling is never tq 
be resolved into mere pleasure and pain. Instead 



56 PRIMER OF PSYCHOLOGY 

of there being only these two opposed kinds of feel- 
ing, there is an almost indefinite variety of feelings. 
For the reason why it is difficult to classify the feel- 
ings is by no means because there are so few of 
them ; it is rather, in part, because they are so many 
in kind, so variable and infinitely shaded in qual- 
ity, so unlike, for very variety, at different times. 
Moreover, the same feeling may be either pleasur- 
able or painful, according to the bodily or mental 
conditions under which it arises. For example, 
there are feelings of surprise and feelings of expecta- 
tion, feelings of excitement and feelings of repose, feel- 
ings of assurance and feelings of doubt, feelings of 
duty and feelings of heauty, etc. Any one of these 
distinct kinds of feeling may be either pleasurable 
or painful, and this either in a slight or in an in- 
tense degree. 

In classifying the feelings, however, it is most 
convenient to regard the occasions on which they 
arise, or the kinds of intellectual activity with which 
they are most closely connected. In this way we 
arrive at the following classification : (1) Sensuous 
Feelings ; (2) Intellectual Feelings ; (3) ^Esthetical 
Feelings ; (4) Moral Feelings. We shall here speak 
very briefly of some of the simpler of the first two 
kinds, and leave the more complex and higher forms 
of the life of feeling to be treated later on. 

Sensuons Feelings. — When any of the senses are at 
all strongly affected, we are conscious, not only that 
these senses arc conveying us some information 
about our own bodies or about external things, but 



FEELING , 57 

also that we are being- subject to pleasures or pains. 
Usually these two effects " fuse together " so com- 
pletely that it seems proper to speak of the sensa- 
tions themselves as either pleasurable or painful. 
Sometimes, however, the feeling-s follow the sensa- 
tions, so that the latter may be looked upon rather 
as their causes or occasions than as parts of the 
feelings, so to speak. Thus, for example, certain 
tastes and smells are unpleasant, depressing*, or dis- 
gusting ; and certain others are pleasant, invigo- 
rating, or exciting. Pleasant coolness is " refresh- 
ing;" pleasant warmth is "cherishing." When the 
larger muscles are used in a slow and regular way, 
we feel " grave " and " well-poised," or even " pom- 
pous " and " self-important." When we hop, skip, 
and jump, we feel " free " and " gay." A German 
professor has declared that even so sober a person 
as himself cannot easily feel " dignified " if he walks 
like a " mincing " school-girl. 

It is well known that different kinds of feeling go 
with the sounds given out by different musical in- 
struments and with the different musical keys and 
chords. A little German boy, who was allowed to 
choose between two trumpets which had a different 
tone, preferred the " darker one " (that is, the one 
with the lower tone). All acquainted with music 
distinguish readily between the subdued sweet sen- 
timent which the minor strains occasion and the 
more excited and positive pleasures of the major 
strains. Yet all, when in certain moods, and some 
people habitually, prefer minor music to major. 



58 PRIMER OF PSYCHOLOGY 

Goethe long" ago spoke of the " cheerfulness " of 
yellow light and of the " monrnfulness " of feeling 
which accompanies looking through blue glass ; 
green gives a feeling of repose, and red a feeling of 
excitement. The obscure and massive sensations 
which arise from the gross conditions of the inter- 
nal organs lose nearly all their character as sensa- 
tions, and become mere organic feelings, as it were. 
And so we speak of feeling " queer," " all-overish," 
and " not a bit like ourselves," when the character 
of the feelings is greatly changed. 

Feelings of Relation — Many feelings seem to de- 
pend, not so much upon any particular sensations, 
ideas, or bodily movements, as such, as upon the 
relation which the sensations, ideas, and movements 
sustain to each other. These are sometimes called 
"feelings of relation." And here the important 
principle is, that the character and the rate of change 
lohich takes place in the sensations and ideas detei'mine 
largely the feelings ivhich accompany them. For ex- 
ample, a sudden and abrupt change in the character 
of the sensations or ideas produces certain charac- 
teristic feelings of surprise or shock. This feeling 
of surprise may be that of a pleasant novelty ; or it 
may deepen into astonishment, and then change 
into fear. The slow, monotonous flow of similar 
sensations or ideas is also felt as the feeling of wea- 
riness, or ennui ; audit may then give rise to restless 
longing for change. The rate at which the sensa- 
tions and ideas change influences the feelings 
greatly. We feel " excited " and " brilliant " when 



FEELING 59 

this rate is increased moderately ; if it becomes 
g-reatly increased, we feel as though our own 
thoughts were "running away" with us. Some 
forms of insanity are distinguished by the time-rate, 
as apparent to the patient himself, of his successive 
mental states. In "melancholia" the thoughts 
" drag on," and the soul feels dragged down corre- 
spondingly. But in " mania " the thoughts run 
helter-skelter, and we feel " wild," and as though we 
were at their mercy. 

Feeling as Pleasure-Pain. — Although the entire 
nature of feeling is not pleasure and pain, most feel- 
ings have some, at least slight degree, of this pleas- 
ure-pain " tone." In using the words " pleasure " 
and "pain" in this way, we include under them 
every degree and kind of agreeable and disagree- 
able feeling, from the slightest uneasiness of some 
portion of the skin to the intensest bodily anguish ; 
or from the uncomfortable consciousness with which 
we regard a " half-bad " picture to the sharpest 
grief at the death of a friend or the remorse of an 
outraged conscience. The question whether there 
are "neutral feelings" — or those which are not in 
the slightest degree either pleasurable or painful — 
has been much discussed. Probably it can only be 
answered by an appeal to the experience of the in- 
dividual. This appeal seems to show that most 
sensations and ideas, with the feelings which are 
fused with or accompany them, show at least some 
traces of pleasure-pain, when we attend to them for 
the purpose of testing this very question. But, on 



60 PRIMER OF PSYCHOLOGY 

the other hand, there are numbers of our visual im- 
ages or other sense-experiences, as well as of our 
thoughts, which have so low a degree, if any, of 
pleasure-pain feeling with them that this character 
does not attract attention ; and, indeed, it cannot be 
recalled as connected with them. Moreover, many 
feelings, which once had a rather pronounced 
" tone " of pleasure or pain, seem, under the influ- 
ence of habit, quite completely to lose it, and be- 
come " neutral ;" other feelings never attract atten- 
tion as pleasurable or painful at all. 

Conditions of Pleasure-Pain. — It is not known pre- 
cisely what it is in the action of the nervous system 
which makes the difference between pleasure and 
pain, or indeed what are the bodily conditions 
of pleasure-pain in general. One or two experi- 
menters have claimed to find distinct " pain-spots " 
in the skin (similar to the " pressure-spots " and the 
" heat- and cold- spots" (see p. 41f.) ; but more care- 
ful observation does not bear out this claim. There 
is some evidence that the excitement of special 
X3arts of the nervous system (paths to the brain and 
brain-centres) is connected with painful conscious- 
ness. For example, disease or chloroform or hyp- 
notic sleep may render one insensible to the pain 
of sensations without destroying the sensations 
themselves. It is worthy of notice that pain often 
seems to be evolved more slowly than the sensa- 
tions, as such. Thus if we dip a hand into very hot 
or very cold water, or get a sharp blow on the sur- 
face, we have first an intense sensation of being 



FEELING 61 

touched ; and then afterward the pain begins to 
grow, as it were, in consciousness. 

All biological theories which attempt to account 
for the i3leasure-pains assume that pleasure indicates 
action of the nervous system which is henejicial, and 
pain indicates action which is harmful. But much 
of all this is mere theory, not at all borne out by 
facts. One of the most undoubted conditions of 
many bodily pleasures and pains is the intensity of 
the excitement which produces the feeling. Yery 
weak sensations, and what we may call " thin" and 
*'pale" ideas, are generally disagreeable; they 
make attention difficult and provoke us by delaying 
the pursuit of practical ends. On the other hand, 
if the intensity of any kind of sensation is increased 
beyond a certain limit, it tends to become painful. 
Intense sensations of pressure or of temperature 
produce physical anguish. 

Again, unsteady, flickering sensations are dis- 
agreeable. Scarcely anything of the kind is more 
painful than, for example, to walk by a high picket 
fence and look through it at the sun. Such abrupt 
and great changes in the strength of the sensations 
give no opportunity for the organism to adjust it- 
self. A similar principle seems to apply to certain 
"feelings of relation." What interruiDts the smooth 
flowing of the current of conscious life, when it is 
set in any one direction, is apt to be disagreeable. 
Thus, when we are looking intenth^ at some object, 
or listening eagerly to some sound, the faintest 
whisper or lightest touch which distracts us may 



62 PKIMER OF PSYCHOLOGY 

be exceedingly painful. These facts, and many 
others, show that we must look chiefly to the cen- 
tres of the brain — their condition and habits of 
action — for the explanation of the conditions of 
our pleasures and pains. And this accords with 
the view already expressed (p. 53f.) as to the condi- 
tions of feeling in general ; for the way that any new 
stimulation ^\fits in with " the existing conditions of 
the brain, and the character and amount of the " <^s- 
turhance'' luhich it produces in the hrain-centers, is the 
chief determining cause of pleasure or pain. 

Mixed Pleasure and Pain. — In persons who are of 
robust body and mind, all strong emotions are 
" naturally," for the time being, more or less pleas- 
urable. It almost seems as though it were neces- 
sarily productive of pleasure to find one's self thor- 
oughly alive in the matter of feeling. This is as 
true, in most men, of anger, vengeance, pride, exces- 
sive self-esteem, and other morally bad feelings, as it 
is of love, the spirit of devotion, etc. That is, unless 
the limit of intensity of strain upon the organism is over- 
reached, the emotions are usually pleasurable^ without 
any reference to their ideal character. 

The question has been debated whether any sen- 
sations, regardless of intensity, are "naturally" 
disagreeable. Some have held that all smells, 
sounds, tastes, and other sensations are, so far as 
their mere quality goes, agreeable. But the behav- 
ior of infants would not seem to indicate this. There 
is, indeed, the greatest variety of so-called " tastes " 
developed ; and certain persons seem to show from 



FEELITSTG 63 

the first what men generally are inclined to call 
"depraved" or "monstrous" tastes. That is, 
smells, tastes, sounds, and sights, which nearly all 
of their fellows consider disagreeable or loathsome, 
seem to give pleasure to certain persons. Some, for 
example, enjoy the smell of burning feathers or of 
asafoetida. Certain children, from their earliest 
years, appear to take a strange delight in the ]3ain- 
ful struggles of the insect which they have pinned 
through or whose wings they have pulled off; or, 
perhaps, in the sight of blood — a spectacle which 
others can scarcely look upon at all without grow- 
ing faint. 

In the actual experience of men almost all states 
of considerable feeling leave a mixture of pleasure 
and pain. The reasons for this, and for the precise 
amounts of pleasure and pain, and for the way the 
two '' struggle " together to get control of the entire 
mental state, are numerous and obscure. But the 
considerations just mentioned explain much of our 
experience. While some sensations — such as bitter 
tastes, grating noises, '* sickening " smells, slimy 
touches, as from worms crawling over the skin — are 
naturally disagreeable to most persons, and too 
strong excitements of feeling are disagreeable to 
all ; on the other hand, most emotions of whatever 
kind are chiefly pleasurable, and what is far " too 
strong " for one person may be only a delight- 
fully full and free tide of life for another. Thus a 
savage may thrust a spear through his enemy in a 
sort of transport of pleasurable rage. And even 



64 PRIMER OF PSYCHOLOGY 

good men, while the anger is strong upon them, if 
asked : " Doest thon well to be angry ? " will answer, 
as the prophet Jonah did: "I do well to be angry, 
even unto death." 

Rhythm of Pleasure and Pain. — In speaking of at- 
tention we saw (p. 54f.) that it cannot be kept at a 
steady strain ; it rises and falls, sometimes in a 
sort of rhythmic way. It is partly in connection 
with this that pleasures and pains are always more 
or less intermittent, as it were. No toothache, how- 
ever severe, keeps up a perfectly steady strain of 
pain. And, in fact, we may be for a moment rather 
pleased with our toothache if it is considerably less 
severe than it was a moment ago. The same thing 
is true of pleasures, especially if they are somewhat 
intense. "We cannot hold them long at a steady 
pitch. 

Connected with this is also the tendency to pass 
from a condition of pleasure to one of pain, and back 
again. In early life, and indeed all the way through, 
the soul is kept vibrating between pleasures and 
pains, by circumstances over which we have no con- 
trol. One needs only to watch an infant being 
bathed to notice this fact. One instant he shudders 
and cries with pain, the next he glows and coos 
with pleasure. Nature sways him back and forth 
ceaselessly between the two. His experience with 
life and his fitness to meet it can only come in this 
way. And all men have to take their share in the 
pain as well as in the pleasure. Indeed it is a truth 
which poets and wise men have expressed in all 



FEELING 65 

ages that the mind of man tends constantly to react 
from one tone of feeling to the other. This is espe- 
cially so of intense pleasurable feelings : they can- 
not last long, and in their ceasing we are apt to fall 
over into the other extreme. Hence the practical 
maxims not to love too violently, lest disgust or 
hatred succeed ; not to hope beyond measure, if we 
would escape falling over into dread or despair; not 
to enjoy anything in excess, lest it become particu- 
larly distasteful to us ; and not to admire immod- 
erately, lest we come unjustly to despise. 

Pleasures of Rhythm — Besides this rhythmic char- 
acter of the feelings with their pleasure-pains, we 
may remark the pleasures of rhythm, which seem to 
be natural and to belong to all men. This is un- 
doubtedly due to physiological reasons, to which at- 
tention has already been called. If the recurrence 
of the same excitement is just about frequent 
enough, it finds the centres of the brain adjusted to 
it, and attention is made easier as well as the compre- 
hension of any meaning which the experience may 
have. In bodily movements, especially of numbers 
of persons acting together, these feelings of rhythm 
serve to heighten pleasure or to lessen the task. 
So sailors lifting the anchor, or workmen handling 
timbers, besides the advantages of actually moving 
together, get some pleasure out of their otherwise 
monotonous work. The pleasures of dancing and of 
marching to tune are partly of this order ; while the 
pleasures of reading poetry or of having it read are 
increased in this way. So also, in part, the agree- 



66 PRIMER OF PSYCHOLOGY 

able feeling's which arise when we move the eye 
easily along the ornamented lines of a building. 

Effect of Repetition — The effect, upon the life of 
feeling, of repeating frequently the same feelings, 
is not the same as the effect uioon the life of 
thought, of repeating frequently the same ideas and 
thoughts. Several principles apply here, but very 
differently with different persons. One principle is 
called the principle of " summation." That is to say, 
by repeating pleasurable sensations of a low degree 
of intensity at the right regular intervals, a large 
amount of massive pleasure may be secured. By 
"summing up" slight pains, frequently repeated, 
almost unbearable anguish may be produced. On 
the other hand, some feelings which are very pleas- 
ant or painful are much dulled by constant repe- 
tition. Pleasurable feelings may thus become less 
pleasurable; and some forms of action that have 
been very pleasant may even become painful. 

The effect of repetition upon the feelings of dif- 
ferent persons is very different. Some enjoy the 
familiar, others demand the novel. Changes of 
scenery, of surroundings, and of habits of life, which 
give some travellers the keenest pleasure, make 
others quite miserable. Thus, too, some are always 
moving, or " trading off" their furniture ; while 
others would miss a single piece from its accustomed 
place only with great and prolonged misery. With 
lovers of music the monotonous West Indian strains 
which Gottschalk used to play are more enjoyed 
than more varied themes. These and the foregoing 



FEELINa 67 

facts are due to two laws of the nervous system : (1) 
severe pain exhausts the nerve-centres and renders 
them less capable of strong- reactions ; (2) the ner- 
vous system " adjusts " itself, within certain limits, 
to habitual forms oi being- excited, and the painful 
or pleasurable character of the reaction is deter- 
mined in this way. 

Diifusion of Feelings.— The conditions of all feeling-, 
especially of the more intensely iDleasurable or pain- 
ful kind, so far as they are found within the brain, 
are such as necessarily to spread themselves over 
wider and wdder areas. Every state of highly pain- 
ful or pleasurable feeling tends to involve all the areas 
of the hrain, and thus to influence a large niiinher of the 
outlying organs through the supreme control which the 
central organ has over the entire hody. Connected 
with this is the " association " of feelings with the 
varied activities of all the outlying organs. In this 
way certain sensations and movements become pleas- 
urable or painful on account of the connections 
formed between them through the central activities. 
But this subject of " association," and of its effect 
upon the life of feeling, requires that we should 
consider the nature of our ideas and of the laws 
that bind them together, before it can be satisfac- 
torily discussed. 



CHAPTEE V 

MENTAL IMAGES AND IDEAS 

It is evident that the different states of conscious- 
ness cannot be thought of as parts of one mentaHife 
unless they have something to serve as a kind of 
bond between them. We express this truth when 
we think of memory as binding our present experi- 
ence to that of the past. For example, I remember 
that, at such a time and place, I saw such a sight, 
heard such sounds, or thought such thoughts and 
formed such plans. The sight, or sound, or thought 
and plan of the past is now recalled, or " brought 
back " to mind — as we say — by memory ; its " im- 
age," or " idea," arises to " represent " it in the 
mind. This experience, and the language used in 
speaking of it, shows that the conscious binding of 
past and present together, which makes experience 
a unity of our own, depends partly upon the nature 
of mental images or ideas so-called. It will appear 
later on that this is true of all picturing by imagi- 
nation, of the knowledge of things, and of the proc- 
esses of reasoning. Hence the importance of the 
subject which is examined in the present chapter. 

Nature of the Mental Image or Idea. — Something 
may be learned on this subject by considering care- 
fully tlie words which are customarily employed. 



MENTAL IMAGES AND IDEAS 69 

The word " image " is more properly used only of 
experiences with the eye. The Latin word from 
which it comes mig-ht be applied to a mask, or a 
ghost, or a phantom. It therefore stood for some- 
thing which is like something else, but which is not 
that which it is like. The image " represents " or 
'' pictures " what it is not. Thus our mental images 
of the sights we saw a year ago are like, and so 
fitted to represent, the sights themselves ; but they 
may be said to differ from the sights somewhat as 
ghosts and masks differ from real forms and faces. 
It would seem somewhat inappropriate to speak of 
the '' images " of smells, of tastes, sounds, touches, 
etc. But such language would be perfectly true to 
the facts, and is very convenient in psychology. 
For it is assumed, in general, that much of what is 
now in our minds represents, or stands for, what has 
been in the same minds in the past. 

After-images. — Let one fix one's eyes for a half 
minute on the flame of a candle or lamp or on a 
brightly colored spot, and then close them and 
watch what occurs. The first thing noticed will be 
an after-image of the object, which is called " posi- 
tive," because it has essentially the same color as the 
object itself. But soon this first image fades away, 
changes color, and the " negative " after-image, or 
image with the complementary color (see p. 41), takes 
its place. Since such after-images are clearly sensa- 
tions, although produced only by the continuance 
of the excitement of the retina after the external 
light has been shut out, they are sometimes called 



70 PEIMER OF PSYCHOLOGY 

" after-sensations." But now, after these sensations 
have died away, many persons can bring up again 
in consciousness a fainter and less life-like copy of 
the original imiDression. This copy may be called 
the primary image or idea of " first intention," as it 
were. 

What is true of experience with the eyes is in the 
main true of experience with the other senses. The 
sounds of the violin that has just ceased playmg 
die away gradually in the ear. They are sometimes 
made to seem to continue by a trick on the part of 
the player, who appears to draw his bow over the 
strings after he has really ceased to do so. After- 
images of the sensations of temperature often can- 
not be distinguished from those sensations which 
we know to be produced by changes of heat and 
cold in things applied to the skin. 

Fading of Mental Images — In general, all impres- 
sions of sense tend to fade away and grow less vivid 
as time passes. Many of these images, if not 
caught and fastened at once, as it were, by an inter- 
ested attention, are quickly gone, and perhaps 
never to return. For example, if you are absorbed 
in reading, and some one reaches over the table to 
take a pen, or the clock strikes, and then within two 
to ten seconds you are asked : " What has just hap- 
pened ? " you can answer correctly. But if a some- 
what longer time passes between the event and the 
question, then you can give no answer. For the 
primary image has then faded away beyond recall. 

The time which it ordinarily takes for such a 



MENTAL IMAGES AND IDEAS 71 

primary mental image to fade away has been inves- 
tigated by experiment. One investigator found that 
the memory-image for weights sank very rapidly 
the first ten seconds, and at the end of that time 
was nearly gone ; the same length of time has been 
thought to be most favorable for our memory of the 
pitch of tones. Another found that a particular 
shade of gray could be recognized only so long as 
the interval was not more than sixty seconds. Still 
another, who experimented by learning series of 
*' nonsense syllables," discovered that after one 
hour the memory - image retained one - half its 
strength ; after from eight to twenty -four hours it 
retained one-third its strength ; after six days, one- 
quarter ; after thirty days, one-fifth, etc. Some- 
times, however, these memory-images retain all the 
vividness of sensations for days and weeks. Music- 
teachers often hear " ringing in their ears " for a 
long time, the sounds which their pupils make ; 
many of us may use the same words to describe 
the memory of an air we heard at the concert of last 
night or of a week ago. The experience of those 
who use the microscope much is similar. One 
worker in this science tells how, when walking the 
streets in Paris, he could see the images of his 
preparations standing out on surrounding objects. 

Sensations and Mental Imag-es We have seen that 

sensations sometimes fade away into mental images, 
so that we cannot certainly distinguish between the 
two. The same truth as to their relation is gained 
by taking the opposite point of view. That is. 



72^ PRIMER OF PSYCHOLOGY 

memory-imag-es and what is called "work of the 
imag-mation " may become so yivid as to be indis- 
tinguishable from sensations. Thus many persons 
have only to close their eyes and try to picture things 
they have seen, and soon the pictures have almost or 
quite all the strength of reality. Some musicians, 
like Beethoven (even after he was deaf) and Mozart, 
hear the melodies and harmonies they compose 
" ringing through their brains," as it were. Some 
painters can summon those whose portraits they are 
i:)ainting so vividly before them as to paint from the 
memory -image as though from the form of the per- 
son himself. The religious devotee, Benvenuto 
Cellini, in answer to prayer, used to see the disk of 
the sun in his prison under ground. 

Different persons differ very greatly, however, in 
their power to recall or to imagine with vividness the 
impressions already had of objects of sense. And 
some who have much power in imaging objects of 
one sense have little or none in still other directions. 
Thus some are good " visualizers " — as it is said ; 
that is, they can vividly recall or picture impressions 
which have been received through the eye. But 
others, who are deficient in this particular power, 
can mentally represent with great intensity and life- 
likeness the impressions received through the ear, or 
the skin, and the muscles. Some also recall smells 
and tastes much better than most men can ; al- 
though, if one might speak of "images" of smells 
and tastes, they are ordinarily much less life-like than 
is the case with the images of the other sensations. 



MENTAL IMAGES AND IDEAS 73 

The reasons and the effects of this difference will 
appear later on. 

Conditions of Mental Images. — There can be no 
doubt that certain properties of the brain-substance 
furnish the physical conditions of the memory- 
images and the imag-es of fancy. Somewhat similar 
properties belong- to all organized matter, and, in- 
deed, to matter that is not — strictly speaking — or- 
ganic. The photographer pre]3ares a plate which 
stores up and retains for months the indescribably 
delicate changes that occur in the_chemical film 
spread over its surface, during an instant of exposure 
to the sun's rays. A good old violin may be said to 
have a sort of "inorganic memory" stored up in its 
woody fibre. The tissues of the body generally re- 
tain the effects of the conditions to which they have 
been subject ; and these effects they show in their 
habits of nutrition and growth. But the cells of the 
brain are by far the most sensitive substances in this 
way. It has been said that they are never the same 
after they have been subjected to any form of modify- 
ing influence ; they always afterward bear in them- 
selves the "traces" of this influence. 

It would be an entirely false interpretation of 
what has just been said, however, to suppose that 
there are impressions literally made in the substance 
of the brain which are " copies " in any way of the 
impressions of sense ; or that " traces " of sights and 
sounds literally exist in its fibres and cells. All we 
know is that the different elements in this substance 
— and probably also the different molecules in each 



74 PRIMER OF PSYCHOLOGY 

element — become accustomed to act together in cer- 
tain ways which are similar to those in which they 
have acted before. This is to be considered as, in 
part, a tendency to react in a similar way whenever 
they are again similarly excited. And this tendency, 
with all that it implies, is somehow mysteriously 
passed over from one stage to another in the growth 
and life of the brain. This is sometimes called the 
principle of " dynamical association " as appliedjto 
the substance of the brain. 

Images and Ideas — If the sensuous vividness of the 
mental image is very low we may call the act and the 
object of our mental representation an "idea." This 
word has been used with a great many meanings ; it 
has also been much abused. In spite of this, however, 
it seems necessary to employ it in the meaning which 
we are about to give it. To realize what this mean- 
ing is, let us call up as well as we can any experience 
of some time ago ; it may be a very vivid flash of 
lightning or a loud crash of thunder ; it may be the 
face of an absent friend or of some scene in nature ; 
or it may be certain thoughts and feelings which 
passed through our mind at a distant t^me. Now— 
to turn back to what was said at the beginning of the 
chapter — this which is now before the mind is some- 
how like our first experience, and yet it is not that 
original experience. The fact may be expressed by 
saying it represents the experience, or it stands in the 
relation to it of a " copy " to its " original." Now, 
then, we shall understand better what is the nature 
of the idea if we examine briefly what is the nature 



MENTAL IMAGES AND IDEAS 75 

of the relation it sustains, as a so-called copy, to its 
so-called orig-inal. Tliis relation may be examined 
under three heads : (1) intensity ; (2) life-likeness ; 
and (3) certain accompaniments of that whole state 
of consciousness of which ideas form a part. 

Intensity of Ideas — It has sometimes been said 
that ideas have really no intensity, since the idea of 
a cannon's roar is no louder than the idea of a whis- 
per ; nor is the idea of the sun brighter than the idea 
of a candle. But this is to confuse what we are now 
calling *' ideas" with thoughts. I can think about 
"thunder," or about "the sun," without any more 
intense or vivid mental image of sound or of sight 
than I have when I think about " a whisper " or about 
" the candle." Probably, also, I rarely or never have 
any copies of my more strong impressions of sense 
which are equal in strength to their originals ; 
though few persons, if any, are unable to bring up at 
will a concrete mental picture of some sense-impres- 
sions which have a high degree of vividness. That 
shriek, for example, which you heard so long ago ; 
how it sounds still in your ears whenever you think 
about it! That face of the loved one who is now 
dead ; how it stands out at times before the mind's 
eye! And then there is "the touch of the van- 
ished hand." 

In spite of the objections of some psychologists, 
we know that certain of our mental images are less 
vivid than the sensuous impressions which they 
represent, and yet that they are always more or less 
vivid, and sometimes startlingly and painfully so. 



76 PRIMER OF PSYCHOLOGY 

Ideas may then properly (however figuratively) he 
called ''fainter copies^' of their originals. 

Life-likeness of Ideas. — The mental pictures which 
memory or imagination produces are not only more 
or less like their originals in intensity, but they 
are also more or less like them in respect to the 
completeness with which they represent those 
originals. They are more or less full of life, or 
" life-like." For example, let one try to recall^ a 
landscape or the face of an absent friend ; one is 
likely to have to proceed with the effort in a sort 
of piecemeal way. The result at any one point 
in the entire process is not only pale, but thin 
and sketchy, as it were. How the face of the 
original landscape or person stood out in com- 
pleteness of detail! But what we recall is like 
those traces or outlines which, when drawn upon 
a blackboard, only serve to suggest how we should 
go to work by continuous activity of imagination if 
we wish to fill in more nearly the entire details of 
the picture. Still our perceptions of things by the 
senses differ in somewhat the same way. Sometimes, 
for example, we are utterly astonished all at once to 
discover a great wealth of particulars in some ob- 
ject — like the carved back of a chair, or a picture — 
which we have seen a hundred times before. But, 
in general, ideas are much less rich in content, less full 
in life (or more "schematic," to use a professional 
term) than their originals are. 

Accompaniments of Ideas The whole state of con- 
sciousness, when one is remembering or imagining. 



MENTAL IMAGES AND IDEAS 77 

is quite different from that when one is observing 
some object of sense or attending- directly to what 
is passing- in one's own mind. The more " spiritual " 
of these differences will be noticed later on ; it is 
by them largely that we know whether we are 
imagining and remembering or are " really " observ- 
ing some object of sense. And it is partly on ac- 
count of the removal of these differences that the 
images of dream-life seem real, although they are so 
fantastic and impossible to realize in actual waking 
life. 

At present it is enough to notice that the feelings, 
thoughts, and movements which accompany our ideas 
differ from those which are connected with their origi- 
nals. For example, in order to see a landscape as 
an impression of sense, I must keep moving my eyes 
and perhaps my head ; but this is not necessary in 
the same way when I remember it. Then, too, the 
tone of feeling which goes with impressions of sense 
when they are originally received differs from that 
with which they are recalled or imagined. 

And this brings us to another important consider- 
ation. Ideas, like sensations, never occur alone or 
separated in the "stream of consciousness" from 
other forms of mental life. Moreover, they do occur 
in connections of various kinds with one another. 
This only* amounts to saying that, when we remem- 
ber or imagine anything, what and how we remem- 
ber or imagine depends upon what our experience 
in the iDast has been. This general truth leads to 
the following considerations about ideas : 



78 PEIMER OF PSYCHOLOGY 

Fusion of Ideas. — By such a phrase as this we must 
not be led to suppose that ideas are real existences 
which get joined tog-ether, or " fused," as it were, 
within the mind. But the mental images of many 
impressions of sense which luere origiiially separate, 
and which perhaps came through different senses, ap- 
pear, as remembered or imagined, in the form of 
inseparable parts of one m^ental state. Or if they 
are not absolutely inseparable, they show a strong- 
tendency to follow each other immediately, so as 
together to color the whole character of conscious- 
ness. Thus we read of one learned man, who, hav- 
ing committed a book to memory when running 
errands as a poor boy, could never afterward recall 
the contents of that particular book without seeing 
the flitting images of the hedges and palisades by 
which he ran when committing it. Another, who 
had worked as apprentice for a hatter, could never 
see black wainscoting, like that of the room in 
which he had worked, without its being "fused" 
with the image of the smell of varnish. It assists 
us all to imagine how, for example, a violet smells, 
if we call up the mental picture of how a violet 
looks ; and it is even difficult to imagine the den- 
tist's file, or the surgeon's probe, without feeling 
anew the disagreeable sensations they actually oc- 
casion. 

The fact is that all our states of memory and im- 
agination are very complex; and the way that the 
numerous ideas which enter into them are related 
together is also very complex. AVith different per- 



MENTAL IMAGES AND IDEAS 79 

sons, and with all persons on different occasions, one 
idea or another may take the lead, as it were ; and 
the other ideas which accompany this one may play 
a more or less prominent part in the whole mental 
state. We all illustrate this experience when we 
confess how much easier it is for us to recall some 
ideas rather than others. For example, let a group 
of persoiis who have just dined tog-ether at table 
g-ive a mental picture of what the total thing is re- 
membered by them as being ; and with one it will 
be more a matter of sight ; with another more a 
matter of smells, or of tastes, or even of sounds. 
It may perhaps be said, then, that every complex idea 
is the result of a number of tendencies to reproduce past 
experience which are solidified for the time heing under 
the limited and unifying activity of that particular 
movement of the mind's life. 

Spontaneous Recurrence of Ideas. — Some ideas, 
especially those which have been very recently and 
vividly impressed upon us seem to keep up a constant 
striving to get into consciousness and to take pos- 
session of its field. Of course, this is really only a 
figurative way of looking at the matter; but all 
have plenty of experiences with which to illustrate 
what is meant. The boy in school can scarcely keep 
down the memory of his last half-holiday or the 
idea of what he will do to employ the next. The 
anxious ideas of the business or professional man 
keep pressing to the front. When one is separated 
from some person whom one loves, one keeps on 
finding the image present in the mind, without 



80 PRIMER OF PSYCHOLOGY 

knowing how it gets tliere, or even in spite of all 
effort to keep it out. It is this experience which 
has led some students of the mind to speak as 
though the ideas themselves existed underneath 
consciousness, with a sort of " tension," or *' strain," 
or pressure, to rise up into the conscious life. It is 
better to say, however, that such experience is due 
to the tendency of the mind, in connection with 
habit and interest, to act repeatedly in the same 
way. That is, the spontaneous recurrence of ideas 
is due to the mind's tendency, somehow acquired, to 
go on " ideating " as it has done in the past. 

Series of Ideas. — Many of our impressions of sense, 
and also our experiences of other kinds, occur in 
regularly established series. This may be due to 
the very nature of things and of our faculties in 
getting a knowledge of them ; or it may be due to 
comparatively artificial and changeable causes. For 
example, the order in which we remember a num- 
ber of stars that we have ourselves traced out in a 
constellation, or the different mountains in a chain, 
or the objects along a road we have travelled, is 
fixed for us. So for the individual is the order in 
which he learns the letters of his alphabet, or the 
successive notes in a tune which he is taught to 
sing. But many series depend upon chance for the 
order they assume ; or upon some practical end to 
be served by running them through ; or even upon 
choice as at first exercised in putting them together 
in a certain way. 

But however any series may have originated, as 



MENTAL IMAGES AND IDEAS 81 

first committed to memory, it tends strongly to recur 
in the order in which it first became the possession 
of the mind. This order it may become very difficult 
to change. Thus it is much easier for most persons 
to say the alphabet forward than backward, although 
there is no natural cause which determines why the 
order should be precisely as it is. And probably no 
one, on a first trial, could sing " Old Hundred " back- 
ward, no matter how many times he had sung it in 
the regular way. 

Two important truths are known, however, about 
the effect of learning ideas in series. First : if we 
have once learned a series, " skipping " is possible 
with some considerable saving of mental strength, 
as compared with an absolutely new process of learn- 
ing. To learn a series without " skipping " makes 
" skipping " in that same series easier. Thus the 
experiments with nonsense syllables (comp. p. 71) 
showed that, on skipping one syllable in any series, 
the saving from having once learned and then for- 
gotten the same series was still some ten per cent. 
Second : the different members of any series thus 
learned together do, to some extent, suggest each 
other in the reverse order from that in which they 
were originally learned. It is easier to learn a series 
backward, if it has once been learned forward. 
All this illustrates some of the simplest forms of the 
principle of " association of ideas." 

A sort of " condensation " of such series of ideas 
takes place when they are very frequently repeated 
in the same order. The mind rushes forward, as it 
6 



82 PRIMER OF PSYCHOLOGY 

were, to the end ; the more impressive and important 
members come to stand for the whole, and the less 
impressive or important become relatively faint or 
drop out altogether. It is like the case of from A at 
once to X", Y, Z, for the whole alphabet. If, for ex- 
ample, w^e try to picture an entire voyage from New 
York to Liverpool, or from San Francisco to Yoko- 
homa, the whole is likely to consist of a brief series 
of pictures with the more vivid and detailed ones__at 
the end and a few fainter and less life-like ones 
thrown in between. It is only this process of con- 
densation which makes it possible for us mentally 
to represent our past with any fulness at all. 

" Freeing" " of Ideas. — It was seen some time ago 
(p. 76) that the ideas are more sketchy and in outline, 
as it were (more " schematic "), than the original 
experiences which they represent. It is this which, 
in part, makes it possible to represent those experi- 
ences at all. For the living reality of the world of 
the senses, and of our own consciously known mental 
life, must be recalled and imagined under compara- 
tively few forms. So, then, a process goes on which 
has been called that of " freeing " the ideas. That 
is, many mental pictures lose the definiteness of con- 
nection which belonged to them at first. Thus they 
stand for more things, but for no one thing with 
anything like so much detail. What this means may 
be made clear if one will notice what goes on in the 
mind when one tries, for example, to form the definite 
mental picture of a dog, arose, or a man. But here 
the so-called "idea " comes very close to a " thought 



MENTAL IMAGES AND IDEAS 83 

about ; " and, indeed, it requires some consideration 
of the question, what it is to t/iinh, before we can 
pursue the subject further in this direction. 

Association of Ideas. — Not only are the simpler 
ideas " fused " but — as we frequently say (see p. 78f.) 
— they become so related that they " suggest " one 
another. Thus one idea makes us think of another ; 
or one idea " brings another to the mind." In not a 
few cases, in spite of all that psychologists have said, 
no known laws rule the succession of our ideas. They 
seem to be thrown up without reason from the dark 
background of the soul's being, into the light of 
consciousness. They come, we know not whence or 
why, and go, we know not why or whither. Thus, 
often in dreams, how fantastic and disconnected the 
mental images certainly appear ! Nor does the most 
careful scrutiny of them always enable us to detect 
any relations between them, any reason why they 
should follow each other in the order which they 
actually take. 

On the contrary, traces of suggestion not infre- 
quently — and perhaps generally — do appear when 
we inspect carefully the current of our ideas. For 
example, some persons, on shutting their eyes, have 
a series of visual images unfold themselves before 
them, in a very concrete and vivid way, to which they 
seem to remain passive spectators, as it were. To 
take a single instance : a bow — an arrow — hands 
drawing a bow — a cloud of arrows — falling stars — 
flakes of snow — ground covered with snow. Here 
a certain connection between the different images is 



84 PRIMER OF PSYCHOLOGY 

perfectly apparent. In general, the reason why one 
idea rather than others exists in consciousness at any 
particular time is to he found in the fact that such an 
other idea rather than some one still diff-erent preceded it. 

Laws of Association — The question of course arises 
at once whether any laws can be discovered under 
which to bring- this fact that ideas suggest each 
other. The very word " suggest " indicates that here 
is a principle far broader than any of the particular 
laws which have been proposed for the association 
of ideas. All mental life falls under the princip>le 
of suggestion. For not only do ideas suggest each 
other, but actual sights and sounds and tastes and 
smells suggest ideas. For instance, the smell of 
some perfume suggests the lady to whose dress the 
faint odor of it clung when we met her years ago ; 
or the sight of suffering suggests the idea of a 
remedy, and we run at once to help the sufferer. 
Besides, we must not think of ideas as proceeding 
in this work of suggesting each other like a piece 
of machinery that runs on by itself, as it were. 
For within certain limits we can make use of this 
principle of suggestion to control the ideas ; we 
can suggest to the ideas that they shall confine 
themselves within certain limits, and so carry out 
some plan we have more or less deliberately formed. 

Various attempts have been made to reduce to 
the smallest possible number all the so-called 
laws of association. Thus it has been noticed that 
means suggest their ends, causes their effects, signs 
the things they signify, and the reverse. The wood 



MENTAL IMAGES AND IDEAS 85 

lying- by the fireplace suggests building- a fire, 
and the idea of a fire — itself, suggested by the sen- 
sations of coolness — suggests the wood to be used. 
The smell of the smoke suggests the fire as its 
cause ; and when one sees a bo}^ bringing a lighted 
match near a saucer of gunpowder, the probable 
effect is immediately brought up in mind. Any 
word or gesture suggests certain things or mental 
states of which it is the sign ; and the thing or 
feeling suggests its own name when once one has 
become acquainted with the latter. 

Principle of Contiguity. — In the attempt to reduce 
the number of the laws of association to as few as 
possible, there are two which have been most gener- 
ally adopted. These are the law of " association by 
similarity " and the law of " association by contiguity 
in time and place." By the former it is meant that 
ideas tend to suggest what is like or similar to them- 
selves. Thus the idea of this man with the Koman 
nose suggests the idea of another man with the same 
kind of a nose ; or the mental picture of this cathedral 
suggests another cathedral which has been seen or 
read about in the past. By the latter law it is meant 
that the parts of any complex experiences which have 
been had together at any particular place or time 
tend to suggest each other. Thus the idea of one 
object in a landscape we have formerly seen suggests 
the other objects in the same landscape ; or any part 
of an event suggests the other parts of the same 
complex event. Sometimes a principle designed to 
cover the whole ground is proposed and called the 



86 PRIMER OF PSYCHOLOGY 

" law of redintegration." This means that, because 
the mind works under the principle of habit, the ten- 
dency always is to reproduce the whole of any past 
experience. The principle and the tendency are true 
without doubt, but they do not state in the best 
manner the one great law of the association of 
ideas. 

This one great law we believe to be found in the 
''principle of contiguity ; " only it must be remem- 
bered that ideas are not real existences, but only 
processes of the mind, and that the " contiguity " 
here spoken of is figurative, and implies the being 
parts of one complex mental process taking place in 
time. Similar ideas, as such, have no particular ten- 
dency to suggest each other. But — as will be seen 
more clearly later on — whenever we are gaining a 
knowledge of anything Ave notice similar points and 
bind them together, as it were, in the unity of con- 
sciousness. Thus similar ideas do come to form links 
of connection in an indefinite number of directions ; 
and in remembering past experiences we are con- 
stantly passing from one item of jDast knowledge to 
others that have similar characters. But the explana- 
tion of the so-called power of similar ideas to sug- 
gest each other, as well as of dissimilar ideas to 
suggest each other (" law of contrast "), or of means 
to suggest ends, etc., is one and the same. In this 
meaning of the words, then : Only ideas that have 
once heen contiguous in consciousness (that is, parts of 
the same unifying process of the mind) tend to suggest 
each other. 



MENTAL IMAGES AND IDEAS 87 

Special Laws of Association — Under the general prin- 
ciple which has just been explained, every person's 
particular trains of ideas are all "associated" to- 
gether. But what are the ^particular associations for 
each person at any one time will depend upon a num- 
ber of considerations. Among them the following 
are important : (1) What are called the "natural 
tendencies " of every individual are yqvj powerful. 
Some have original aptness in certain directions, and 
so ease and interest in performing certain mental acts 
rather than others. (2) Closely connected with this 
is the influence of temperament, age, and sex. The 
memory and imagination of youth and of old age 
are different ; in general the same things suggest 
something different to women and to men. (3) So 
the mood, and the passing or more permanent con- 
dition of body, has a great influence. We are apt to 
think of gay things when we are gay, and of soher 
things when we are sober. (4) The intensity and 
vividness of the original impressions, and the way 
they happen to fit in with the mental life at the 
time they occur, are also very effective in determin- 
ing the association of ideas. In this way things 
very trivial in themselves get to be a part of the 
necessary connections of the mental life (see p. 
78). (5) Repetition and habit are of the very high- 
est importance. Everybody knows that ideas which 
are brought together over and over again tend to 
suggest each other. If this were not so we could 
scarcely learn anything or form any fixed habits 
among our ideas. But (6) our own feelings, desires, 



88 PRIMER OF PSYCHOLOGY 

and will have also a great influence. For, as will 
appear soon, loe, to a large extent, determine for prac- 
tical ends what trains of associated ideas shall run, 
and the point to which all the trains shall be for the 
time directed. 



CHAPTER VI 



There is a wide difference between merely having 
sensations and knowing the sensible qualities of 
things. For ideas and thoughts, as well as sensa- 
tions, are necessary to any knowledge of things ; and 
the same truth holds with respect to the knowledge 
of ourselves and of other men. The common use of 
language illustrates this. For example, when speak- 
ing of what things are, as known by the senses, we fre- 
quently refer to our " idea " of them, or even to our 
*' thought " about them. And when looking at a new 
and strange object in company, people are heard 
asking of each other, " Have you any idea what this 
is ? " or " What do you think that strange object can 
be ? " Such language recognizes the fact that one 
has to use one's memory and imagination, and to do 
some thinking, too, if one is going even to perceive 
things. It might almost be said that perceiving 
things is " minding " things ; for are not careless and 
inattentive observers exhorted to "mind" as they 
look, or listen, or feel, or taste, if they would really 
know what the qualities of things are ? 

Nature of Perception — The word " perception " is 
very generally used in these days for that knowledge 
of things which seems to come at once through the 



90 PRIMER OF PSYCHOLOGY 

use of tlie senses. Thus one lias only to open one's 
eyes and the whole landscape, or the entire side of 
the room with its pattern of wall-paper and its pict- 
ures, instantaneously appears " stamped " or " im- 
pressed" uiDon the mind. In hearing a piece of 
music, Avhere it is necessary to listen somewhat at- 
tentivelj^, we seem to ourselves even more passive. 
But when with shut eyes we are feeling* our way 
about a room, or are tracing the outlines of a com- 
plex object (a geometrical solid or a piece of carv- 
ing), the fact that we are active in perception be- 
comes more apparent. So, too, when the attention 
is arrested by something unfamiliar in the food we 
are eating, wo often change quite abruptly from 
simply letting ourselves he impressed with certain sen- 
sations of taste to an active tasting which is to re- 
sult in telling us, by comparison with some recalled 
image, what the thing we are tasting is. 

Both observation and exiDeriment prove that the 
distinctions just made are only matters of degree. 
We are active, attentive, are having ideas, and using 
thought — to a greater or less extent — in all our per- 
ceptions. The formation of all perceptions, more- 
over, consumes more or less of time. This is a matter 
which can be tested by experiment ; and it is actually 
found that the number of thousandths of a second 
which it takes to perceive any object, or group of 
objects, depends on their complexity and on the ac- 
tivity of the mind in recalling ideas and in thinking 
out the meaning of sensations. Besides, conscious- 
ness actually shows how, while studying attentively 



SMELL, TASTE, AND TOUCH 91 

the same object for several seconds, the knowledge 
of it actually grows, in dependence on the degree 
and manner of minding it, as it were. 

It appears, then, that all the elementary processes of 
conscious mental life are concerned in Perception hy the 
senses ; hut the other processes are to he regarded as ex- 
cited, directed, and determined, with respect to the entire 
state of consciousness, chiefly hy those pecidiar modifica- 
tions of consciousness which have heen called sensations 
(see p. 32f.). 

Development of Perception. — It follows, from what 
has just been said, that all perceptions by the senses 
are matters of growth. Babies just born perceive 
nothing; to them there are no "things," because 
they have not yet learned how to perceive or "mind" 
them. In adult life also the perceptions of different 
persons are very different. One man's eye or hand 
instantly perceives what another's cannot perceive 
at all, or can perceive only after the slowest and 
most laborious effort. On this general truth all 
students of psychology are agreed. Nothing that 
the modern study of the science has done is more 
important than the emphasis and clearing up of this 
truth. More and more science has traced in detail 
how it is, and under what conditions, that perception 
by the senses develops. But no investigation has 
made perfectly clear — and perhaps it will never be 
known — just how much, and what, of this many- 
sided activity of the mind must be called " natural " 
or " native ; " and just how much, and what, must be 
assigned to development. More would be known 



92 PRIMER OF PSYCHOLOGY 

about the whole subject if we could penetrate the 
mysteries of the baby's consciousness, and so dis- 
cover precisely what the character of his sensuous 
experience is. Do his sensations of light and color, 
his feelings of pressure and motion, seem to him to 
be " out " of his consciousness ; have these sensa- 
tions any quality of being- " spread out " or extended, 
at all as ours are ? Have his first sensations of heat 
and cold, his first sensations connected with thej^lay 
of the muscles which move the limbs, any " locality " 
whatever ? Have they any quality other than that 
which has already been spoken of as belonging to 
"local signs" (p. 50), that would make it possible 
to locate them as not " in consciousness ? " Is the 
distinction between "the inner" and "the outer" 
possible to the infant's mind at all ? 

These are all questions to which only a doubtful 
answer can be given. And so brief and elementary 
a treatise of the subject as this can scarcely be ex- 
pected to do more than call attention to them. 

Classes of Perceptions. — Some kinds of perceptions 
do most obviously reveal at once the qualities of 
things as others do not. This distinction between 
different perceptions all language and all experience 
makes plain. And here, on the one side, stand the 
smells, tastes, and sounds of things ; while, on the 
other side, stand sight and touch — if in the latter 
be included all the knowledge which comes also 
through the use of the muscles and joints. For by 
smell, taste, and hearing (as distinct from the per- 
ceptions of touch which' accompany and fuse with 



SMELL, TASTE, AND TOUCH 93 

them) no direct knowledge of the qualities of things 
is gained. We smell, and assign the odor to such 
an object located in such a spot, because we have 
before experienced the same sensations in connec- 
tion with the seen or felt presence of the object ; and 
because we can know, or guess its direction by cer- 
tain changeable signs. So, also, if the flavor of the 
object be considered wholly apart from its "feel" in 
the mouth as it is being tasted, we are affected ; but 
through this affection only an indirect knowledge is 
obtained of the existence and qualities of any thing. 

On the contrary, what we see and touch is the 
thing, as known to the mind by the senses, actually 
there present and spread out in extension before us, 
as it were. This is true of its color and hardness 
or softness, its roughness or smoothness, and all its 
solidity and weight, etc. Thus any particular thing 
might be described as heiiig what it appears to sight 
and touch to be ; and then there might be added 
what also we hioio about the odors and sounds it 
can "give forth," or the "way" it tastes when taken 
into the mouth. Hence sight and touch are some- 
times called the " geometrical senses ; " because 
they give, as actually present in the thing, its quali- 
ties of a spatial kind. But smell, taste, and hear- 
ing are called "non-geometrical;" because they do 
not directly afford any knowledge of the spatial 
qualities of things. 

The different principal forms of perception by 
the senses may now be considered in particular ; and 
what has been said as to the nature and g-rowth of all 



94 PRIMER OF PSYCHOLOGY 

perception, and as to the relation of these two classes 
of sensations, should be kept constantly in mind. 
For purposes of convenience, however, the different 
perceptions will not be treated in the precise order 
which is suggested by these two classes. 

Perceptions of Smell. — Perceptions of smell afford 
no direct knowledge of the qualities of things as ex- 
ternal and spread out in space. If two different 
smells operate upon the organs at the same time, 
the stronger of the two drowns out the weaker. 
Two smells cannot, so to speak, be made to lie " side 
by side " in space. We know even that the nose is 
the organ of smell only indirectly through the sensa- 
tions caused by the muscles in sniffing in the air and 
by the passage of the air over the skin of the nos- 
trils. The direction of the object which occasions 
any smell is also known only indirectly, by the amount 
and quality of the sensations, as the head is turned 
toward or away from it, or as the body moves in the 
direction where it is situated. 

There is a kind of knowledge which comes from 
smell that admits of a high degree of cultivation. 
But it is the lower animals and the lower races of 
men which usually possess this perception in its most 
acute form. The negroes of the Antilles are said to 
distinguish by smell the footsteps of a negro from 
those of a Frenchman ; so also the Indians of Peru, 
the race to which an approaching stranger belongs. 
Some subjects, when in the hypnotic state, can assign 
the articles belonging to an entire roomfull of per- 
sons by the peculiar odor of each. It is said that 



SMELL. TASTE, A^T> TOUCH 95 

Caspar Hauser could tell the leaves of different trees 
by smell. 

Perceptions of Taste. — As regards the knowledge 
gained of the qualities of bodies, perceptions of 
taste resemble those of smell. But in tasting any 
substance, it is actively rolled about in the mouth ; 
thus the substance is also known by the skin and 
muscles, as located ''in the mouth," and as hard or 
soft, fluid or solid, and also, to some extent, as hav- 
ing such a size and shape, or as so many in num- 
ber. 

The more highly civilized peoples are more dis- 
criminating in tastes : the very reverse of the 
ordinary rule for perceptions of smell. They use 
perfumes mostly for mere pleasure, and not to give 
them any knowledge of things ; but the case is not 
the same with the delicacy and acuteness of tastes. 
Tea-tasters and wine-merchants, for example, be- 
come exceedingly accurate judges of the " crop " or 
the " vintage ; " and it is said that certain Koman 
epicures professed to know by taste where the fish 
was caught, and on which leg a partridge had slept 
just before being killed. Men in general are becom- 
ing more and more " jDarticular " in their tastes. 

Perceptions of Touch.— Under this head may be 
included all the knowledge of things that comes 
immediately through the skin, muscles, and joints. 
Through these organs at least four classes of sensa- 
tions are derived (comp. p. 41f.). But if the divis- 
ion is made according to the two principal classes 
of bodies whose qualities and relations to each other 



96 PRIMER OF PSYCHOLOGY 

are known in this way, it may be said : by toucli one 
has the perception of one's own body, of its different 
areas and tlieir conditions, and also of tlie various 
other bodies which in any way come into contact 
with it. These two kinds of knowledge (the knowl- 
edge of OUT own body and the knowledge of other 
bodies) proceed, to a large extent, as it were, side by 
side. That is, the child does not first attain a com- 
plete knowledge of its own body and then make jase 
of this knowledge to acquire the knowledge of those 
qualities of other bodies which come by toucli ; nor 
does it first know all the qualities of other things by 
touch, and then apply this knowledge to the task of 
learning to know its own body. But little by little, 
what is at first all confusion, as it were, clears up ; 
and so the different members of the body become 
mentally separated from each other and from the 
things known in contact with them. How this proc- 
ess comes about we shall now try briefly to explain. 
Earliest Knowledge of the Body by Touch. — It is 
probably crude perceptions of the arms and legs, 
and perhaps of the abdomen, back, and face (espe- 
cially around the mouth), which constitute for the 
infant its first knowledge of its own body. These 
are the parts that are either most in motion, or else 
are oftenest pressed upon somewhat heavily or are 
subjected to changes of temperature. The follow- 
ing experiment is instructive, as showing how very 
broken and " scrappy," as it were, is even the more 
mature knowledge of our own bodies, solely by touch. 
Let one shut one's eyes and try to divert attention 



SMELL, TASTE, AND TOUCH 97 

from all images of the bodily members that have come 
by sight ; and now what is one's body to one's own 
self ? As we let attention wander over the field, so 
to speak, we fed one limb after the other ; but this 
only obscurely, unless some part of the limb is be- 
ing* rather sharply pressed by the chair, or by some 
other portions of our own body. If now one wants 
more definitely to perceive any part of one's own 
body in terms of touch, one has to move it so as to 
bring out the sensations of the muscles ; or to press 
it against something, so as to intensify the sensa- 
tions of the skin. It is not possible all at 07ice, and 
as a whole, to j^erceive one's own hody hy touch. For 
one born blind the body always consists only of a 
system of members, thus interrupted rather than 
continuous, and that must be felt successively rather 
than seen simultaneously. And even persons not 
blind, who have lost a leg, for example, sometimes 
feel the foot which belonged to that leg as though 
it stuck out immediately from the stump. 

It is possible to explain how these perceptions of 
the body by touch are acquired. It must be remem- 
bered, however, that the infant's first movements of 
its limbs are random and impulsive ; or else they 
are reflex — that is, are due to the effect of some kind 
of irritation upon the external parts of the body (see 
p. 50f.). They imply neither any perception of 
themselves nor of some end to be gained by the 
movement. They are more of the nature of a living 
machine that runs partly as stirred up by springs 

inside itself, and, ])artly, by forces acting upon it 

7 



98 PRIMER OF PSYCHOLOGY 

from without. AVe might even say that these move- 
ments are/or consciousness instead of being hy con- 
sciousness. We shall now consider, further, the two 
classes of important perceptions which enter into 
the earliest knowledge of our own bodies by touch. 

Perceptions of Motion by Touch. — The movement of 
any of the limbs occasions a series of complex and 
blended sensations, which come both from the skin 
and also from the muscles and joints. The charac- 
ter of this series depends upon the particular limb 
which is being moved and upon the direction, inten- 
sity, and distance of its movement. It can easily be 
seen that this must be so, if it be considered that 
the skin is differently stretched over the muscles 
and joints of each limb, and that it has different 
degrees of sensitiveness for its different areas ; that 
the masses of the different muscles and the range 
and intensity of their movement are different ; and 
that the sensations due to pressure at the joints 
vary as the character of the joints and as the amount 
and direction of the pressure vary. We can even 
experience the fact that this is so by moving any of 
our larger limbs and meanwhile carefully watching 
the changes which take place in the complex quality 
of all these different classes of sensations. 

Eor example, if the arm be given a strong, wide 
swing in any direction, the result is to call out a cer- 
tain series of complex sensations, which stand in con- 
sciousness for that partiGular inovetnent of the arm, so 
far as it is known by touch. If the strength, or range, 
or direction of the swing of the arm be changed, then 



SMELL, TASTE, AND TOUCH 99 

the series of resulting complex sensations changes. 
All this, when referred to the arm as known by sight, 
is the perception of the arm as variously in movement 
and known to tonch. That is to say, my arm, which 
I know as a whole chiefly from having seen it, is now 
known by tonch to be moving in such or such a 
direction, etc. And what is true of the arm when in 
movement is true of every other member of the body, 
and of the body as a whole. In the case of moving 
the body as a whole, however, a great many obscure 
indications which come from the internal organs 
contribute to the complex result. 

Perceptions of Position on the Skin. — E. H. Weber 
called attention to the interesting fact that, by using 
a pair of compasses on the different parts of the 
skin, the distance apart which the two points must 
be placed in order to be actually felt as two is found 
to differ very greatly. For example, on the tip of 
the finger or the red part of the lip it maj^ require 
only one-twenty-fifth to one-tenth of an inch, while 
on some id arts of the back and of the upper arm or 
leg it may require between two and three inches. 
More recent experiments have shown that every 
area of every individual's skin may thus be '' mapped 
out " with regard to its comparative sensitiveness to 
touch ; and that every area differs from every other, 
both in the case of the same individual and in case 
we compare different individuals. If, again, a pair 
of compasses be run over the skin of any consider- 
able area of the body, without actually changing the 
distance ax)art of the points, then they will seem to 



100 PRIMER OF PSYCHOLOGY 

spread apart or to come together, according to the 
rehitive sensitiveness of the areas that are crossed. 

Let this fact now be considered in connection 
with what was seen (p. 41f.) to be true of the " press- 
ure-spots" and "heat-spots" and "cold-spots" of 
the skin. It now appears that the surface of the body- 
is capable of yielding an indefinite variety of impres- 
sions due to the complex result of exciting its differ- 
ent elements, either in succession or closely together. 
So that anything travelling over the skin marks out 
the different areas, as it were, in consciousness. Each 
area has its complex characteristics, which corre- 
spond to that particular area and to no other. And 
here, as in the case of the muscles, each series of per- 
ceptions corresponds to movement over a series of areas 
related together hy the conscious activity of the mind. 

Positions of the Movable Parts. — There are very 
obvious means at the command of the mind for dis- 
tinguishing the relative positions of the different 
movable parts of the body. In understanding this 
subject, two important differences between our per- 
ceptions of the bodily members at rest and of the 
same members in motion must be kept in mind. (1) 
When a limb is at rest it may either be held in posi- 
tion by the muscles, or it may be supported in posi- 
tion by some other part of the body or by some 
external thing. But the complex character of the 
perceptions is very different in each of these three 
cases, as any one may see by giving careful atten- 
tion to his own experience under each of the three 
cases. And, further (2), our perceptions of the mov- 



SMELL, TASTE, AND TOUCH 101 

able parts, when they are not in motion, are very 
much less clear and vivid. In order to make them 
more clear and vivid, one has to make a demand 
ui3on memory ; and v/hat one tries to remember is, 
usually, either how they look to sight or how they 
felt when they were in motion. Thus experience 
shows that, so far as touch without sight is concerned, 
the perception of the position of the movable p>arts of 
our lodies is largely a system of associated ideas due 
to previous movements. 

Development of Perception by Touch All increase 

in the knowledge of one's own body by perceptions of 
skin, muscles, and joints, proceeds in the main from 
what is more coarse and confused to what is finer and 
more clear. It is in " blurred masses," as it were, 
that the infant first iDerceives parts of his own body ; 
such as his own lips, mouth, and cheeks, by their 
being engaged in nursing and their being fondled, or 
his back and abdomen as pressed upon while being 
dressed or while lying on the bed or the floor ; or 
his limbs as being grasped and kept almost con- 
stantly in motion. At first, then, an infant cannot 
feel a burn, or the prick from a pin, as definitely in 
any particular part of its body ; or — as one writer 
has expressed it — it cannot " place its toe in the 
pain." It is through attention, excited by interest 
and leading to finer and finer discriminations, that 
it comes gradually to clear up the details of its own 
body. 

All this development, however, is essentially 
aided by the use of the eye. And in the same ex- 



102 PRIMER OF PSYCHOLOGY 

periences the infant is also learning- to know other 
things b}^ touch as separable and different from its 
own body. The process of acquiring knowledge of 
other bodies by these perceptions must now be 
briefly considered. 

Distinction of our Body and Other Bodies.— The pro- 
cess of " setting off" other bodies from our own body 
by touch is the result of mental activity ; it is a devel- 
opment. Two very important distinctions, however, 
make such a process possible : (1) Some perceptions 
of this class are very strongly colored with feelings 
of pleasure or pain, while others are almost wholly 
without any tone of feeling. Again (2), some per- 
ceptions are also dependent upon our own willing, 
wishing, and striving, as others are not. 

At first the infant undoubtedly perceives other 
bodies only in the same vague and incomplete way 
in which it perceives its own body. But even then 
the two kinds of marked differences just spoken of 
are prominent. For example, when the mother or 
nurse grasps the child and puts it into the bath, or 
when the bands about its body are tightened or re- 
moved, or when a fly lights uiDon its skin and then 
goes away of itself, its experiences are very different 
from those which have just been described as giving 
it a perception of its own body. What is perceived 
as some other hody than its own is connected with its 
pleasures and pains in a way that it cannot control. 
When it strikes itself with its own fists, or kicks it- 
self with its own legs, it gets a sort of double lesson 
in making- the same distinction. Part of its own 



SMELL, TASTE, AND TOUCH 103 

body thus becomes another body to itself for the 
time being". 

The same kind of a distinction is much more finely 
drawn every time we trace out any id art of our own 
bodies with the hand — " feel of ourselves," as we say; 
and then, ag"ain, when we use the same hand to trace 
out the outlines of some external body. In the first 
case, one series of perceptions reiDresents ourselves 
as " touching- '* something, and the other represents 
ourselves as " being touched." In the second case, 
one series represents ourselves as " touching," and 
the other represents a thing that is "not ourselves" 
as being- touched. The best way to bring- out all 
these distinctions in consciousness is to experiment 
and notice carefully how we feel meanwhile. 

dualities of Bodies by Touch. — It is chiefly through 
the skin that the suiDerficial qualities of bodies are 
known to touch. The series of impressions made 
on this organ is very different, whether the thing 
being explored is " smooth " or " rough," " hard " or 
'•soft," "dry" or "moist," "cool" or "warm," 
" sticky " or not, etc. In x>erceptions of hardness 
and softness of texture the muscles, whenever the 
pressure is slightly increased, come into play. 
The dry and the moist are apt to combine sensa- 
tions both of pressure and of temperature. 

It is obviously due to the use of the muscles in 
pulling and pushing*, in straining or actually lifting-, 
that bodies are known as "solid" and "real" to 
touch. The perception of solidity cannot he gained 
vnthoid the experience of movements, as actucd and 



104 PRIMER OF PSYCHOLOGY 

resisted, hy means of the solid masses of our own 
body. 

All knowledge of tlie size, weight, etc., of bodies 
is comparative, and depends upon a variety of per- 
ceptions whicli they occasion. Here the way the 
particular body meets the expectation of the mind 
has no little influence. Bodies that move more 
easily than was expected, appear lighter than they 
are ; bodies that move only after giving ns more 
than the expected resistance, appear heavier than 
they are. The rate of movement also is of influence. 
If a body is raised quickly, it is perceived to be 
lighter than when it is raised slowly. The princii3le 
of contrast also comes in to disturb our perceptions. 
If one stands for a long time with heavy weights in 
both hands, and then lays them down, one seems to 
be drawing one's arms up toward the breast or even 
one's self to be rising from the ground. 

Perception of Distant Bodies by Touch. — All bodies 
which are not in contact with our own are known in 
terms of touch only as their appearance excites the 
images of past perceptions which have come while 
touching similar bodies. When, however, we are 
measuring with the eye the distance to which a stone 
or ball must be thrown, or the height of a wall or 
fence we wish to leap, or the probable weight of a 
body we design soon to lift, our state of conscious- 
ness is strongly colored with the images of past per- 
ceptions of the order of skin, muscles, and joint, as 
well as with sensations arising from the condition of 
expectant use into which these organs are put. 



SMELL, TASTE, AND TOUCH 105 

We tlius reach one of the many cases where i3er- 
ceptions of the eye and those of touch penetrate each 
other, as it were, and greatly assist each other. In 
this assistance sometimes the eye and sometimes 
the organs of touch take the lead, in suggesting the 
appropriate mental images. But this consideration 
will come before us again after the perceptions of 
sight have been separately considered. 



CHAPTEE VII 

HEARING AND SIGHT 

Hearing differs from both toucli and sight — be- 
tween which we have placed it — in that it does jaot 
afford any direct perception either of the parts of 
our own bodies or of the qualities of external things. 

Perceptions of Hearing. — Our own bodies as well as 
bodies outside of them are known by the ear only in 
an indirect way. Certain terms used with regard to 
the sounds perceived do indeed imply that they are 
themselves more or less extended. Thus men speak 
of "acute" or ''piercing" sounds, and of sounds 
more or less " voluminous " and " massive." But the 
case here does not seem to be different from the per- 
ception of " heavy " odors or of " sharp " tastes when 
vinegar or pepper is taken into the mouth. To use 
the latter example : the taste of pepper is chiefly the 
IDerception of being pricked at an indefinite number 
of x3oints on the tongue, while at the same time a 
certain smell arises in the nostrils. So, when the 
sound is very " massive," as in the case where a door 
is slammed or a cannon fired near to the ear, one 
feels as though the side of the head were struck a 
blow or the whole jelly-mass of the body set vibrat- 
ing. Any one who has had his back close to a board 
behind which a grand organ was iDlaying knows how 



HEARINa AND SIGHT 107 

the whole body, both inside and out, seems envel- 
oped in sound. 

Place of Sounds The direction in which, and the 

place from which, sounds are perceived are matters 
of judgment and guessing, that are sometimes made, 
however, with wonderful promx)tness and accuracy. 
Sometimes, on the contrary, the mistakes made in 
locating sounds are more than equally astonishing. 
Certain perceptions of sound are due to causes that 
lie within the body itself and near to the organ of 
hearing ; these have already (p. 36) been referred 
to as " entotic " sounds. Thus one sometimes finds 
it difficult to tell whether the sounds one perceives 
are to be placed *' in the ears," as due to a large 
dose of quinine, or are to be located in a cricket on 
the window-sill. In hearing a concert, too, one can 
allow one's self for the time being just to float in the 
sounds, or to hear them as arising in the very in- 
terior part of the soul, and so lose all thought of the 
real, external sources from which they come. But 
if one looks at the players, then one may perceive 
the sounds as coming from them. 

Experiments have been made to determine what 
means the mind has for placing the direction of 
sounds and also the degree of accuracy with which 
they can be located for the different positions. One 
observer found in this way that the accuracy was 
very much greater just in front of the head than just 
behind (as 6° to 1°) ; and also directly opposite each 
ear, and directly above and below the middle of the 
head. As to direction, we ordinarily place a sound on 



108 PRIMER OF PSYCHOLOGY 

the side of iis on wliicli it is most intensely heard ; and 
if both sides are equally intense, then in the middle 
place. When both ears are used and the head is 
moved freely about, the direction in which sounds 
are perceived seems to depend upon the changes 
caused in the different intensities of the sensations 
in the two ears. If a current from a telephone is 
made to pass through both ears, a tone may be per- 
ceived in the middle of one's head. On the whole, 
however, all the means which the mind has at its 
disposal for perceiving the place and direction of 
sounds are not yet understood. 

dualities of Bodies by Sound. — All perception of 
what bodies are, which comes through the ears, is 
indirect, and has to be interpreted into terms of 
touch and sight. Thus, one box is called " hollow " 
and another "full," one substance "solid," like 
painted marble, and another " light," like wood of 
the same color as the marble ; because when we rap 
upon them the sounds perceived resemble those 
which experience has previously taught us proceed 
from bodies that have these qualities as known to 
sight or to touch. So, too, when we say that we 
" hear " this or that thing approaching or receding, 
or "hear " somebody uttering such a cry, or "hear " 
this event happening (like the popping of a cork, or 
the crackling of glass, or the exploding of gunpow- 
der), we are really making a very complex appeal 
to our past experience with things as known by 
sight and touch. 

The one principle applying to this class of per- 



HEAKING AND SIGHT 109 

ceptions may be stated as follows : It is hy means of 
sensations of the muscles and skiii (including, of 
course, the internal parts of the ear — " semi-circular 
canals," etc.) that we perceive the place and direction 
of sounds, in a space already constructed hy the eye, 
muscles, and skin. 

Perceptions of Sight. — If the eyes are turned upon 
a landscape, a little world of objects, all having 
not only color, but also shape, size, and distance, 
and standing in various relations of space to each 
other, is at once made known to us. It has already 
been said (p. 91f.) that this work of perception is 
really not instantaneous ; and also that the ability 
to perform the act of perceiDtion is the result of a 
development of various powers. But all the more 
diilicult do these facts make the study of precisely 
how this wonderful result is brought about. This 
difficulty does not, however, make any less certain 
the general principle that pefrception with the eyes, 
like every form of mental life, is a process in time, 
and requires mental activity and mental development. 

Means for Visual Perception. — The means (some- 
times called " data ") which are at the command of 
the mind, so to speak, for perceiving by the eyes 
the qualities and relations of things, are very nu- 
merous. The science of psychology is not yet sure 
that it understands them all. Some of them are in- 
dispensable for any true visual perception what- 
ever ; and others of them may be regarded as only 
assisting in the easier and more correct perception 
of spatial qualities and spatial relations. Among 



110 PRIMER OF PSYCHOLOGY 

such means the following- are probably the most 
elementary : (1) The sensations of light and color 
which vary in quality and intensity, and which de- 
pend, partly, upon the place of the retina where 
they are excited ; (2) sensations of the skin and mus- 
cles due to movement of the eyes ; (3) sensations 
due to what is called " accommodation " of the eye 
— that is, the adjustment of the lens for nearer or 
more remote distances : with these always go (4) 
associated images of past sensations of all tliBse 
three kinds ; and (5) accompanying- feelings, and 
perhaps felt activities of will. 

But the fact that we have two eyes, and make use 
of both in seeing- single objects, and the fact that 
various "secondary signs" (to be spoken of later) 
enter into almost all our vision, complicates further 
the study of this subject. In order, therefore, to 
consider it by passing- from what seems simpler to 
what is more difficult and complex, the whole mat- 
ter may be taken up in the following way : (1) The 
conditions for forming a visual image on the single 
eye when at rest, and the effect upon this image of 
the eye's movement ; (2) the effect of the action of the 
two eyes together ; and (3) the effect of other experi- 
ences which are partly dependent upon the exercise 
of the mind previously in perceptions of other kinds. 

If all this seems rather com^Dlicated as a matter 
of science, the wonderful speed, completeness, and 
delicacy with which the eye masters its work must 
be remembered. It is the world of things as we see 
them, which is so varied and full of interest and of 



HEARING AND SIGHT 111 

different objects, for perception. If the blind man's 
world of thought and of moral and religious feeling 
is essentially like ours, how vastly different and 
poorer is his world of perception! 

Two Principles of Visual Perception.— In all that is 
to be said regarding the perceiotion of things by the 
eye, two principles must constantly be kept in 
mind. 'Perception hy sight is, like every form of men- 
tal life, a true process in time, and requires mental ac- 
tivity. But, i\xYih.GY,percep)tion hy sight is always an in- 
terpretation of signs, that are very complex and whose 
meaning often admits of being understood in sev- 
eral different ways. Under this last principle, as we 
shall see, things " look " very differently, according 
to the point of view, the condition of the bodily or- 
gans, and even according to our feelings, desires, 
and attitudes of will toward them. 

Formation of a Visual Imag^e. — It has already been 
seen (p. 38f.) that the eye is, in important respects, 
like the instrument which the ijhotographer uses to 
secure an " image " of the person whose picture he 
is taking, upon a plate rendered especially sensitive 
by chemical means. The details of how the physical 
image is formed upon the human eye will be left 
for books on physiology to tell. It would be a fatal 
mistake to all true understanding of the subject, 
however, to siippose that the mind, in visual percei3- 
tion, somehow reads off, as it were, this image upon 
the retina ; or even that some image corresponding 
to the image on the retina is transmitted to the brain. 
The mind knows nothing about any image on the re- 



112 PKIMER OF PSYCHOLOGY 

tina ; and there is no imag-e in the brain which is in 
any respect a copy of the image on the retina. It is 
the sensations, considered as modijications of our con- 
sciousness (see p. 32f.), with their different mixtures of 
quality and intensity, which are produced by the 
changes in the brain, that constitute the " stiff " — so 
to speak — of our visual perceptions. These sensa- 
tions are " fused " with one another, and with the 
memory images of past sensations, in an almost infi- 
nite variety of ways. 

Plainly one can never, now that one has grown up 
in the use of the organ of vision, put one's self 
back into an infantile condition, and so experience 
anew how " things looked " to one then. For, so far 
as anything can be determined about the matter — 
properly speaking— things did not look at all to us 
then. The nearest we can get to a study of such 
visual perceptions as might be supposed to arise 
with the use of one eye at rest is to consider the 
" color-mass " which appears before us, when our 
eyes are closed in a darkened room. But it can 
easily be proved that even this color-mass involves 
the activity of both eyes and the influence of count- 
less experiences with them* both, when open and 
when in motion. For, if now we open one of our 
eyes, with it we can (but only if we move it) seem 
to look at the color-mass still remaining and be- 
longing to the closed eye. But even while both 
eyes are closed, we cannot perceive clearly any 
particular portion of this color-mass without mov- 
ing our eyes in the direction of that portion ; and 



HEARING AND SIGHT 113 

we cannot lift the whole color-mass toward the 
ceiling, or depress it toward the floor, without 
bending the eyes and even the head in these same 
directions. 

Effects of Moving the Eye. — What has just been said 
shows the influence of moving the eye, and even the 
head, upon all our visual perceptions. Indeed it may 
well be doubted — although it is diflicult to prove an 
opinion — whether any perception by the eye would 
be possible without its movement. From the earli- 
est infancy the eye, while open, is almost never for 
an instant completely at rest. It is moving almost 
ceaselessly, during life, in all the waking hours. 
Tlie reasons for this are, in part, the following : It 
is only when it falls upon a small spot at the cen- 
ter of the retina that the image of any object is 
clear. Objects whose images fall outside of this 
spot are seen only in " indirect vision ; " they are 
not clearly perceived. There is therefore a nearly 
irresistible tendency to get the image of any object, 
which we wish to perceive clearly, to fall ujoon this 
spot (that is, to " fixate " it) ; and in order to do this 
the eye must itself move. It is thus that the eyes 
of even very young children follow every object 
which " attracts " or " draws " them. This movement 
is accomplished, in every possible direction, by the 
pull of six muscles (or three j^airs) that lie in the 
socket of the eye. The muscular sensations which 
result in this way have thus, from the very begin- 
ning of experience, been connected with all our use 
of the eye. It is found by actual experiment that 



114 PRIMER OF PSYCHOLOGY 

the eye is almost incredibly sensitive to its own 
movement. 

Accommodation of the Eye. — It has already been 
said (p. 38) that the lens of the eye, unlike that which 
the photographer uses, has the power of altering" it- 
self so as to be fitted, as is required, for nearer or for 
more remote distances. This alteration of the lens 
is accomplished by a rather complicated nervous 
and muscular apparatus, whose nature is not as yet 
fully understood. The effect of these chang-es^is 
to produce a certain feeling- which indicates to the 
mind, as it were, the position and size of its visual 
objects. The value of this feeling is greatest for 
near objects ; for objects that are twenty or more 
feet distant it amounts to little or nothing. We 
know by experiment that, when the muscles of ac- 
commodation are paralyzed, and so we have to make 
much more effort to accommodate for the same near 
distance, the object may appear nearer than it really 
is, and so diminished in size. 

The Visual Object. — By a great and constantly in- 
creasing amount of evidence, into the details of which 
we cannot go, this conclusion is proved : Every ex- 
tended visual object is perceived, as it is perceived, in 
dependence, not only upon sensations of light and color 
ivJiich are due to excitement of the retina, hut also upon 
sensations of motion and upon memory-images of pant 
movements, which are fused with the sensations of light 
and color. 

The Field of Vision. — ^When the eyes are opened, a 
larger or smaller number of objects is seen, which 



HEARING AND SIGHT 115 

all at once appear to stand together in certain rela- 
tions of space to each other ; and each one, in itself 
considered, to have a certain size, shape, and distance 
from us. This experience, regarded as a whole, may 
be called the formation of the " field of vision." In 
this sense of the words, the field of vision is as varied 
as all that we see, at all the various times in our use 
of the organs of sight. It could be shown, however, 
that in perceiving the details of every such field, we 
are accustomed to run the eye over it, and thus to 
master these details. The effects of all this experi- 
ence of motion in the construction of the different 
fields of vision in the past make themselves in- 
stantly felt in every new experience, even when this 
is gained with a more nearly or quite motionless 
eye. Thus we seem com^Delled to believe, with re- 
spect to the whole field of vision, what we have just 
said seems to be true of every visual object. Every 
^\field of vision,'' as well as every object in every fields 
depends for its j^^^^ceived qualities and relations in 
space upon past experience of the muscidar and other 
sensations helonglng to movement of the eye. 

The truth of both these statements becomes clearer 
when we consider the use of both eyes. 

Images of the Two Eyes. — Since there are two eyes, 
there are, of course, two retinal images formed for 
every single object — one for each eye. How, then, 
can the object be perceived as single ? Now, this 
question really has no such meaning as it at first ap- 
pears to have, just so soon as it is understood that 
the mind knows nothing directly of the retinal 



116 PRIMER or PSYCHOLOGY 

images, whether they are one or two, right-side up 
or wrong-side up ; or whatever their shape and po- 
sition may be. The fact is that tivo images are help- 
ful, if not necessary, in order that one solid and real 
object may be perceived. If, now, seeing with two 
eyes be called "binocular vision," and. if seeing 
things solid and extended in the third dimension of 
space be called " stereoscopic vision," then binocu- 
lar vision is naturally stereoscopic vision. 

That there are two visual images, any one may 
show to one's self. Hold the finger up against the 
sky and look steadily at the sky beyond it, and. two 
transparent images of a finger will be seen instead 
of one solid finger. Look at any not too large ob- 
ject, and press one eyeball gently aside with the 
finger ; in this way you can " uncouple " the images 
of any object. Many persons accustomed to experi- 
ment with themselves readily acquire the power to 
see things either single and solid or double and shad- 
owy, at will ; they can also slip one set of images of 
an entire section of some small and regular i^attern 
(as of carpet, or wall-paper, or wire-grating) by its 
proper " double ; " and can then unite it, with the 
double of another section, into a solid object. 

For, of course, the reverse of the process of " un- 
coupling" the two images is the uniting of them 
into one object. For this purpose most persons re- 
quire some help in the shape of a stereoscope. With 
this instrument any one can study the startling ef- 
fects of xDutting together two more or less unlike and 
flat images. Thus all kinds of solids can be formed ; 



HEARING AND SIGHT 117 

one can be made to look into a funnel or to perceive 
its small end turned toward one ; and by uniting a 
right-eyed image of some cube in outline which is 
white, with a left-eyed image of a similar cube in 
black, one can be made to gaze into the transparent 
depths of a crystal. 

Movement of the Two Eyes. — In all natural use of 
both eyes, they move in certain relations to each 
other, so as to act as one organ and yet with a great 
variety of changes in the details of their relations. 
This movement is called " binocular movement ; " 
and, under all ordinary circumstances, the two eyes 
either (1) move parallel, when they turn equally in 
the same direction ; or (2) they converge, when they 
rotate on their axes in different directions. Thus 
they can move right or left together, up or down to- 
gether ; and they can converge either in a symmet- 
rical or in a non-symmetrical way. These different 
movements result in the production of a great vari- 
ety of sensations of motion, of strain, and of po- 
sition ; and in connection with the changes of accom- 
modation which the lenses undergo, as the distance 
of the objects looked at varies, and with the coupl- 
ing and uncoupling of the double images, they fur- 
nish that indescribable multitude of experiences on 
which the development of perception with the eyes 
depends. 

In one word, then, the field of vision in which solid 
objects appear as related to each other in space is due to 
an activity ivith both eyes^ in lohich v allying '' local 
signs'' of the retina (see p. 60) are combined with varia- 



118 PRIMER OF PSYCHOLOGY 

tio7is in tJie muscular and other sensatio7is due to the 
eyes being moved together. 

Instantaneous Vision. — When the field of Yision is 
seen as lig-hted by an electric flash (that is, too 
briefly for movement of the eyes to take place), or 
when it is seen with only one eye, whether in rest or 
in motion, the objects in it appear extended and 
solid and all in their proper relations in sx)ace. In 
such cases, however, it would seem that these per- 
ceptions are possible because of previous experience 
with both eyes in motion. Such instantaneous vision 
is ordinarily less perfect; it involves less mental 
relating- and discriminating ; it is more dependent 
upon memory-imag-es, and more like that producible 
by flat surfaces skilfully colored. And, indeed, the 
means of " deception " and " illusion " which art em- 
ploys in presenting its objects to the eye enter very 
largely into this, as they do into all vision. 

Secondary Helps to Vision There are many con- 
siderations on which the mind relies in its perception 
of objects that are not so invariable as those already 
considered, but that are none th e less, as a rule, present 
and effective in all ordinary vision. These are some- 
times, on this account, called by the title " secondary 
helps." We now mention several of the most impor- 
tant. (1) The way the lines run which limit the ob- 
ject often determines how the object shall be seen. 
Lines that cover other lines must be seen nearer, of 
course. Hence, when we have a system of lines that 
admit of more than one interpretation, the object may 
be perceived in one or more different ways. (2) The 



HEARING AND SIGHT 119 

size of the angle covered by any object influences the 
distance at which the object shall he perceived. The 
nearer together the parallel rails of a track appear the 
more distant they appear. (3) Atmosphere and the 
size and direction of the shadows are also of influence. 
Travellers in Colorado know how near objects appear 
there, on account of the clearness of the atmosphere. 
Things seen through a fog are perceived very large, 
because, appearing dim, they are perceived distant ; 
and then, since they cover a large angle of vision, 
they are seen both distant and large. (4) The sur- 
roundings have also much to do with the apparent 
size and distance of what is seen. 

Influence of Suggestion on Sight — It might almost 
be said that all vision is chiefly a matter of sugges- 
tion. This would be in some respects like saying 
that all developed sight is a matter of interpretation 
(see p. 111). Thus the eye often " catches at " a few 
meagre outlines or blurred color-masses, and uses 
them to suggest to the mind what it shall perceive. 
All are familiar with the attitude of expectation with 
which people watch one drawing a figure on a black- 
board, to see precisely what it is that he is going to 
make us see. Is it a bird or a bat, a man or an ape, 
a maple or an elm, etc. ? Just a stroke or two ap- 
pears to decide the question and to make the per- 
ceived reality start out, as it were, in all its fulness 
before the mind's eye. On the other hand, hasty vis- 
ion is often inaccurate vision, because the sugges- 
tion has " run away with us," as it were. In similar 
fashion persons in the hypnotic state are almost 



120 PRIMER OF PSYCHOLOGY 

sure to see anytliiDg wliicli it is suggested to tliem 
to see. 

Influence of Feeling on Sight What one expects 

to see, dreads to see, or confidently hopes to see, that 
one is likely to see. Fear can make the shapes of 
the window- curtain into a human form enveloped in 
a shroud ; and then, when we have seen the same 
object with cool after-thought and inspection, it is 
by no means the same. No ; now we cannot see iJLas 
we were forced to see it just a moment before. It is 
the " believers," as a rule, that see the spirits, and 
the " unbelievers " either see nothing at all or else 
see something entirely different. 

Influence of Will on Sight. — Within certain limits 
— strange as it may seem — one can decide w^hat one 
will see. By an act of will the man Avho is skilful 
with the microscope can exclude from the attention 
the images belonging to one eye ; in the same way 
one can bring out in consciousness the parts of the 
retinal field which lie in " indirect " vision. When, 
in uniting two flat pictures by use of a stereoscope, a 
conflict of outlines or of colors takes place, some per- 
sons can decide the conflict by an act of will, and say 
which outline or color shall triumph. It has very 
recently been discovered that a considerable number 
of persons can learn to control the retinal field so as 
to make some simple figure — like a cross or a circle — 
appear in it, by willing steadily that it shall do so, for 
some time (ten to fifteen minutes). A few can make a 
cross of some chosen color start out almost immedi- 
ately at will. Some few also can produce in the 



HEARING AND SIGHT 121 

same way such vivid lialluciiiatious — for example, 
the picture of a deceased or an absent friend — as 
that the hallucinations are equal in intensity and 
clearness to real perceptions ; and in rare cases will 
even cover real objects so that the latter cannot be 
seen through the object produced by imagination 
and will. 

Illusions of Sight — ^What has just been said shows 
that no fixed line can he drawn hetioeen illusions of 
sight and perceptions of sight. There is no reason in- 
deed, on grounds of sight only, to doubt the reality 
of most of our visual perceptions. The testimony of 
others, and the testing of the other senses, confirms 
the conviction that sight has reported truly. But so 
far as sight goes, our perceptions may be just as 
clear and strong and yet not correspond to the real- 
ity. Errors or illusions of a great variety of kinds 
may be noticed, some of which admit of easy ex- 
planation and some of which do not. Errors of sight 
in respect to size and distance are common enough. 
The size of the sun or moon, for example, is very 
different for different iDersons, according to the illu- 
sory place at which they locate the object ; to some 
these bodies appear no larger than an orange, but to 
others larger then a cart-wheel. The size of things 
seen with tired or lamed muscles of the eye is in- 
creased. The shape of things changes totally as 
seen from a different point of view. A startling 
example of this is found when we look down at a 
human face, standing back of the head when the 
body is lying flat on the floor; or when we stand 



122 PRIMER OF PSYCHOLOGY 

on the brow of a hill and look at the valley be- 
low with our own head between the legs. 
. Many illusions result from the nature of the 
" environment," either as seen or as suggested. The 
sides of a triangle seem smaller than the equal 
sides of a square ; those of a square than those of a 
five-sided figure, etc. To illustrate further : take 
four lines of equal length, and then at each of the 
ends of one line draw an obtuse angle, of another 
an acute angle, both directed cnvay from the lines ; 
then treat the other two lines in the same way, 
only directing the two angles toicard the connecting 
line. Then notice the effect on the apparent 
length of the four lines. 

Illusions of motion of various kinds abound, as 
any one knows who has travelled by cars and studied 
his perceptions of sight. Art, too, has innumerable 
illusions ; indeed, without illusion no art is possible 
which appeals to the eye. We sometimes complain 
of this as though we were "deceived" (and so had 
some right to complain) by art. But the truth is 
that the "reality" of things, as they are to our 
visual perceptions, is truly given by art, and not 
by instantaneous photography or as figured out by 
mathematics. 

Thus we see that the explanations of our errors 
in the use of the senses are precisely the same as 
the explanations of our successes. For all vision is 
" inter 2yretation,'' and from partial or mistaken inter- 
pretation all degi^ees and hinds of illusions and errors 
result. 



CHAPTEE VIII 

MEMOKY AND IMAGINATION 

Merely having* mental images recur in conscious- 
ness, under the so-callecl laws of association (see p. 
84f.), does not amount to remembering or imagin- 
ing any particular thing, in the fullest sense of the 
words, " memory " and " imagination." Especially is 
this true of the former of these two faculties. For a 
full act of memory must be expressed in some such 
way as this : " I remember that I (or he) did so and 
so, at such a time, etc.;" or "I remember it to have 
happened thus at such a date." Here it is plain 
that some particular experience (the action of my 
own, or the occurrence of the event) is placed in 
past time, and is affirmed to belong to my experience 
— ^to me the same person now remembering, who for- 
merly had the experience. What, indeed, could well 
be more absurd than to try to conceive of one person 
as remembering another's internal experience ; or of 
ourselves as remembering what is still in the future 
instead of what has been in the past. " Conscious- 
ness of time," and " consciouness of Self," are there- 
fore necessary to developed memory. 

Difference between Memory and Imagination. — No 
little difficulty is sometimes experienced in deter- 
mining where genuine memory ends and imagina- 



124 PEIMER OF PSYCHOLOGY 

tion beg-ins. Tims we often ask ourselves or inquire 
of others : " How much of all this are we remember- 
ing as something which actuallj^ occurred, and how 
much merely imagining ? " Even in the case of the 
most careful and accurate people, it is sometimes 
impossible to decide such a question. And proba- 
bly we have all honestly been in doubt about our- 
selves : " Now, am I really remembering or only half 
imagining that ? " _^ 

The science of psychology finds the lines between 
memory and imagination difficult to draw strictly. 
And yet, if extreme or even well-established cases of 
each are selected and compared, it is plain in what, 
in part at least, this difference consists. The main 
difference here seems to have to do with a sort of 
" belief in reality." What we certainly remember is 
what we once knew really to exist, or actually to 
occur ; whereas, what we imagine, we somehow ex- 
empt from any such obligation to reality. But 
nothing "has really been," or " has really occurred," 
except in the past — as indeed the very tense of the 
words signifies. Any number of beings, or of 
events, can be imagined, however, as possibly having 
happened in the past, or as possibly now existing 
or happening, or as going to exist or to happen in 
the future. For imagination is not bound, as memory 
is, to the past. 

Hence there is a peculiar kind of recogyiition which 
belongs to memory. In imagination this recogni- 
tion is suppressed, as it were. Thus, for example, 
when we meet a person who seems somewhat famil- 



MEMORY AND IMAGINATION 125 

iar, but we cannot tell precisely who it is, we say 
either, " I cannot quite remember you ;" or, " I am 
not sure that I recognize you." Eecognition there- 
fore enters into complete memory ; but it is not all 
there is of memory. For we also say of the friend 
that passes us by on the street without perceiving 
who we are (here there is no question of failure of 
memory) : " You did not recognize me." Eecognition 
then enters into complete perception also ; and this 
shows that, often at least, perception involves a cer- 
tain kind of memory. When, on the contrary, we 
picture to ourselves some scene in history about 
which we have been reading, or build our castles in 
the air, and place ourselves as very rich and quite 
haiDpy in them, we do not employ recognition in the 
same way. We cannot recognize the scene in his- 
tory, because it is not represented as belonging 
to our past ; we cannot recognize ourselves in the 
charming pictures of reverie, because they lack the 
reality of that which is recognized as actually exist- 
ing in the past. 

Thought and Memory. — These two faculties are in- 
deed necessary to complete each other ; but they 
are not the same activities of mind. So we bid our- 
selves or others : " Think and see if you cannot re- 
member ;" " Thiiik and remember more clearly and 
fully." Thinking is thus used to recall, to clear up 
and complete, and also to verify the memory picture. 
And thinking is plainly also necessary to any elab- 
orate use of the imagination. To be sure, much of 
the most beautiful work of imag-ination comes, as it 



126 PRIMER OF PSYCHOLOGY 

is said, " without the effort of thought." And little 
g-ood poetry indeed is produced by trying, as did 
the old woman in one of the Dutch novels, who sat 
down with pen and paper, determined to make 
verses ; and sat there and sweat hard without bring- 
ing anything to pass. But here it is not, properly 
speaking, the absence of thought which is empha- 
sized in the activity of imagination, but the absence 
of effort to think. Yet this " play " (or work) of imag- 
ination, although requiring thought, is very different 
from the " work " (sometimes seeming like play) of 
the thinker over a hard problem in mathematics or 
philosophy. All this, however, will be better under- 
stood later on. 

Thinking, rememhering, and imagining ai^e then all 
of them dependent upon reproductive and representative 
faculty, hut in different ways and different degrees. 

Stages of Memory — It is customary to say that 
there are three stages or processes in memory : and 
these are (1) retention; (2) reproduction; and (3) 
recognition. The figure of s^Deech which invites 
such a form of statement is perfectly plain. Past 
experiences — the objects perceived, or imagined, or 
thought — are considered as having a sort of exist- 
ence apart from the conscious activity of the mind, 
as it were ; and the mind is considered as though it 
were a sort of receptacle or chamber in which they 
can be " stored " or retained. Thence are they re- 
produced or recalled, either by our own choice and 
with some practical end to be gained ; or else they 
get " suggested " by some current experience, and 



MEMORY AT^D IMAGINATION 127 

SO arise again involuntaril}^ within the conscious 
mind. Psychology has been defined as the science 
of the states of consciousness, as such (p. 7). Now, 
the only fact of consciousness here immediately con- 
cerned is this : We eemember. But what we re- 
member is directly known as belonging to our past ; 
and why we remember this rather than something 
else is also indirectly known to depend on the power 
of the association of ideas. 

Memory as Retention.— When facts or thoughts are 
spoken of as " stored " away in the mind, or one 
person rather than another is said to have " vast 
stores of memory," a convenient but misleading fig- 
ure of speech is used. Objects of past perceptions, 
whether with eye or hand or whatever sense, and 
ideas produced by imagination and thought in the 
past, are not real existences. When the mind ceases 
actually perceiving, imagining, thinking, the percep- 
tions, images, thoughts cease to be. Neither is the 
mind to be considered like a chamber or garret in 
which cast-off garments and disused furniture may be 
stored for future possible use. Retention, then, as a 
mental faculty, is a jDure fiction. But reproduction 
and recognition are actual mental processes, real and 
living activities of mind. Like all other processes 
and activities, they have certain conditions which 
require to be known. And it is this which causes a 
resort to the fiction of retention. 

Conditions of Retentive Memory These are partly 

physiological, and have to do with the condition and 
action of the tissues of the brain ; and they are partly 



128 PRIMER OF PSYCHOLOGY 

mental, and have to do with the activities involved 
in acquiring- or recalling or recognizing past experi- 
ences. No other mental faculty is so obviously 
deiDcndent upon bodily conditions as the memory. 
In the first place, it would seem as though the faculty 
were not well established earlier than from five to 
seven years of age. Children who become blind 
earlier than this period have in after years little or 
no memory of what they saw in infancy. In old age 
failure of memory is one of the things about ^vhich 
complaint is most frequently made. The results of 
loss of memory through the effects of fevers upon 
the brain are extremely curious. "We hear of one 
man who, in this way, lost all memory of the letter 
F. Sound and well-nourished brain-tissues, with a 
constant supply of pure blood, are plainly to a high 
degree the necessary physiological conditions of 
retentive memory. 

It is in general interested attention tvJiich is the 2n'm- 
cipal mental condition of retentive memory. What we 
attend to, that we remember most tenaciously ; that is 
most apt to "cling" in the memory. Yet, in spite 
of this rule, there are not a few instances of trivial 
and worthless things, to which little attention has 
been given, getting " stuck fast " in memory ; while 
tilings which one has been interested to learn, and 
has attended closely to for the iDurpose of learning 
them, keei3 " slipping " quite away. In many of 
these cases, however, it appears that such trifles 
happen at first to strike the mind forcibly because 
of their connection with things that were interesting ; 



MEMORY AND IMAGINATION 129 

or because tliey occurred when the mind was in a 
condition of aroused and receptive consciousness. 
But especially does the way in which any new ex- 
perience " fits in," as it were, with the whole ai3ti- 
tude and habit of mind determine whether it will be 
retained or not. A boy, who cannot jDOSsibly remem- 
ber over night a short lesson in geography, can re- 
member for months all the details of a base-ball 
game. Here both interest and attention, on the one 
hand, and aptitude and habit, on the other hand, are 
favorable to retention. 

Memory as Reproduction. — The principles under 
which mental images recur in consciousness have al- 
ready been discussed (p. 79f.). But, plainly, some- 
thing that is broader and deeper than this is needed 
to give insight into the working of memory. One 
writer has said, in a poetical way which suggests 
much truth : " Every case of memory is a case of 
sympathy." That is, whatever I remember is my 
own, not only because I have experienced it, and 
can remember only my own experience, but also be- 
cause I recall it at this time in accordance with all 
my mental characteristics, in full " sympathy " with 
the mental being that I (and no one else) am. 

Among the considerations which fix limits to 
memory and determine what shall be the sugges- 
tions that guide the thoughts of the past are those 
belonging to the race, or to the social set, or to the 
profession, etc. When the memories suggested by 
the surroundings seem quite out of harmony with 
the surroundings themselves, the whole mental life 



130 PRIMER OF PSYCHOLOGY 

may be much disturbed. In a foreign land, where 
everything is so totally different from that to which 
one has been accustomed (Japan, for example), one 
may almost doubt whether one is now dreaming or 
whether what one remembers of one's own past is 
not mere dreaming. How must the memories of the 
wealthy and once honored criminal be confused by 
the surroundings of his felon's cell and his coarse 
food and prison-garb ! Language, too, which we all 
find ready-made for us by the developed culture^of 
the race, marks out certain lines in which suggestions 
are obliged to operate. Hence much of our mem- 
ory becomes " word-memory," or memory of sym- 
bols of some other kind. Bodily and mental health 
are of the greatest influence here. Sometimes the 
pace of memory is so rapid that its trusty character 
is all broken up ; sometimes it is so slow that it 
will not reproduce in recognizable form our past 
experience. " Atmosphere," or the tone of our whole 
present surroundings as in sympathy with our 
present thoughts and feelings, influences mental 
reproduction greatly. 

Memory as Recollection. — The word " recollection " 
is sometimes employed to describe such acts of men- 
tal rejDroduction as are voluntary; loe — with some 
end set as a purpose before us — ^remember. In this 
case we often seem to ourselves to be trying to " get 
hold of" the memory-images; we are seeking for 
" clews " to them. Such a process implies, of course, 
that some sort of memory has already taken place ; 
for one cannot try to recollect any particular ex- 



MEMORY AND IMAGINATION 131 

perience without knowing something- about what it 
is one wishes to recollect. In recollecting, then, one 
is really trying to reproduce more perfectly what has 
already been, but only partially and imperfectly re- 
produced. Sometimes such " trying " is accompa- 
nied by a painful sense of mental effort and even by 
marked jDains of body ; and this shows the exhaust- 
ing work which the nervous system is being called 
upon to perform. Weariness and the feeling of con- 
fusion and of anguish are not infrequently produced 
in this way. At other times, however, in joyful 
obedience to the will, the memory-images come be- 
fore us — orderly, clear, and strong, and ready to do 
our bidding. 

Memory as Recognition.— It has already been shown 
(p. 124f.) how necessary recognition is to the fullest 
and highest use of the faculty of memory. This has 
sometimes — and very properly — been called the 
" spiritual " activity in memory. And, indeed, it 
seems to indicate a behavior of the mind that cannot 
be accounted for as in any way parallel with the phys- 
ical conditions of memory, whether considered as re- 
tentive or as reproductive, /recognize this as mine, 
as belonging to my past. The past is really gone 
and never can return ; this exioerience of memory is 
not like the original experience which it represents, 
as we say. Tor examjole : I saw my friend, who is 
now dead, a year or ten years ago ; I remember him 
distinctly now. I knew him by iDerception then ; I 
know him by memory now. In some sort, he is the 
same as known in these two ways ; and I, who now 



132 PRIMER OF PSYCHOLOGY 

remember him, am the same that once saw him. In 
some sort, then, every act of memory with recognition 
transcends the present, and connects the pi'esent into a 
hioion real unity with the past. No wonder that a 
great philosopher regarded this as one of the pro- 
foundest of all mysteries ; and yet every man has 
this experience every day of his life. 

Kinds of Memory — There are as many sorts of 
memory as there are mental activities concerned in 
knowing things to be remembered, or as there are 
classes of objects that admit of being " committed " 
to memory. Thus there is a memory of the eye and 
a memory of the ear, or a good visual and a good 
musical memory. There is also a good or a poor 
memory of the skin, muscles, etc. ; and a memory 
for words, or for abstract thoughts, or for different 
kinds of facts and principles. A " tenacious " mem- 
ory is one that forgets relatively little, although it 
may be either promx^t and rapid, or slow and hesi- 
tating, in reproducing what is remembered. A 
" spontaneous " memory is one that works easily 
and rapidly, with comparatively little excitement 
or *' prodding," as it were. Some men have "pro- 
digious " memories ; and this would seem to require 
both tenacity of memory and promptness in repro- 
ducing. Such memories may be special, like that of 
the painter who reproduced from memory the altar- 
piece of Rubens, or of the mathematical genius who 
could remember a row of 188 figures after a few 
glances at them ; or else general, like the memory of 
Locke and Niebuhr, who were popularly said never 



MEMORY AND IMAGINATION 133 

to forget anything-, whether facts or principles, views 
or feelings, sights or sounds. 

Art of Remembering — The really best art of remem- 
bering is to observe carefully the conditions of 
memory ; that is, to keep a sound and well-nourished 
brain; not to overstrain it in any way, and to put 
the attention earnestly into what it is wished to re- 
member. Besides this, great art may be exercised 
in connecting the particular thing to be remem- 
bered with the whole structure of our experience, as 
it were. The more " natural " this connection is 
the better it is. But there are many things, like 
dates and lists of names, etc., which it is sometimes 
desirable to have on call, for the mastery of which 
one may properly resort to some of the so-called 
*' artificial " systems of memorizing. 

Good memory requires also that we should, as far 
as possible, observe certain rules in " committing " 
to memory. Some of these rules can be determined 
by experiment, such as : (1) Do not undertake too 
long tasks of memorizing in one effort ; (2) try to 
find some meaning in what you attempt to learn ; (3) 
repeat the early attempts at memorizing as frequent- 
ly as possible without excessive fatigue. (Here re- 
call what was said (p. 70f.) about the fading of the 
memory -image.) 

Nature of Imagination. — It has been seen that men- 
tal images associated under the principle of conti- 
guity (see p. 85f.) are concerned in the faculties 
both of memory and of imagination. It is the 
absence of reality (see p. 124), and of recognition, as 



134 PRIMER OF PSYCHOLOGY 

belong-ing- to the past of one's self, which, in part, 
distinguishes imagination from memory. But the 
other side of this difference is that imagination is 
not bound by facts or within actual time past, as 
memory is. Hence the wonderful impression of 
" freedom,'' which belongs to the higher activities of 
the imagination. The man without imagination has 
been said to be related to the man gifted with it, as 
"the mussel fastened to its rock, that must wait for 
what chance may bring it, is related to the animal 
that moves freely or even has wings." Yet, as we 
shall now see, imagination gets all its materials 
from actual past experiences, while it passes far be- 
yond all possible experience of what is actual, in the 
form into which it puts its materials ; and it never 
operates independently of all conditions. Such 
operation would indeed not be " freedom," but dis- 
order ; and the result would be the unintelligible. 

Conditions of Imagination — Since all imagination 
involves reproduction in the form of mental images, 
the conditions of mental reproduction belong to all 
imagination. The most highly " creative genius " 
creates only as he also reproduces. Let it be supposed 
that one is asked to imagine a line extended indefi- 
nitely ; or to imagine what is meant by saying " Par- 
allel lines do not meet, but are everywhere equally 
distant ; " or " A point has position but no extension 
in any dimension." Then one must already have had 
enough experience which one can reproduce to know" 
what drawing a line (in imagination) means : what 
the " meeting " of lines means, etc. Even to imagine 



MEMOEY AND IMAGINATION 135 

a straight line at all, or to imagine any particular 
line as extended, one must have perceived lines and 
have experienced what it is to extend them. 

It would be an interesting inquiry, but far too com- 
plex for our present purpose, to ask whether any ob- 
ject can be imagined without setting agoing, at least 
to some extent, the very machinery, so to speak, of 
body and mind that would necessarily be employed in 
first knowing that same object. When, for example, 
I imagine with the eye a line drawn to the left, do I 
not slightly move, or tend to move, the eye in that 
direction ? One writer on psychology has proposed 
to test this question by such experiments as the fol- 
lowing : Open the mouth very wide, and then try to 
imagine a word which (like " bubble " or " toddle ") 
cannot actually be spoken without bringing the lips 
or the teeth close together ; and can you do it ? At 
any rate, a very close connection exists between the 
imagination of certain performances or of certain 
conditions, whether of mind or body, and the sup- 
pressed beginnings of the same performances and 
conditions. It is hard to imagine what rage is, with 
jaws dropping down loose ; or what grief is, with 
head erect and an assumed smile on the face, and a 
good breath of pure air drawn well down into the 
lungs. Here the study of the postures of actors, and 
of the insane, in connection with their voluntary or 
involuntary play of imagination, is very instructive. 

Reproductive and Productive Imagination. — It is 
customary to speak of two main divisions of im- 
agination : (1) reproductive, and (2) productive or 



136 PKIMER OF PSYCHOLOGY 

creative. These terms are, however, only rela- 
tive. The dreams of men are usually given as in- 
stances of reproductive and purely passive imagina- 
tion. And it is true that most dreams seem to be 
played off before us (sometimes to our amazement or 
our amusement), rather than constructed by us ac- 
cording to an accepted plan. And yet the mind is a 
great artist in dreams; in sleep it oftentimes con- 
structs the most wonderful dreams out of very liitle 
material, whether of sensation or of memory. Some 
dreams, whether by day or by night, do indeed run 
helter-skelter ; but then so do some of our " thoughts," 
as we call them. The real difference, which ought to 
be emphasized, concerns the amount of conscious 
recognition as suited to some plan or -ideal end, 
which is given to the work of the imagination. It 
may entirely run away with us, in spite of all efforts 
to restrain it ; or we may let it run away to see what 
it will do for us ; or we may more deliberately con- 
trol it for an accepted end. 

The fact is that every man's so-called " creative " 
imagination obeys certain limits, some of which are 
rather arbitrary and whimsical, and some of which 
belong to the laws of all reality and of all mental 
life. Thus, no man can imagine anything as taking 
place without occupying some time ; but it would be 
difficult for one not acquainted with the telegraph to 
imagine that distant communication could be made 
so rapidly as it actually is in this way. Perhaps few 
can easily imagine water as burning up, until they 
have actually seen it do so ; and it is said that a cer- 



MEMORY AND IMAGINATION 137 

tain king* of Siam could not imag-ine water becoming- 
solid enoug-h for elephants to walk upon. We often 
hear some one saying-, "I cannot imagine it," on 
being- truthfully told what another person has known 
actually to occur. 

Creative Imagination. — Some further explanation 
seems desirable regarding- this form of the faculty of 
imagination. The main thing to notice is that it is 
always constructive and works toward a plan. It 
therefore implies a certain previous development of 
exx:)erience with things, with ends to be reached, and 
with the means of attaining them. It is also regu- 
larly accompanied by desire to produce something that 
shall be novel or new — in the sense of combining the 
results of past experience into some form not hitherto 
realized. The interests which it serves may be as 
varied as all life and all art — from those of the little 
girl who designs patterns for the clothing of her 
dolls, or the cook who " gets up " a new dressing for 
a salad, to the lofty imagination of the great musical 
artist or of the scientific discoverer. 

In all imaginafioR of wholly neio creations the mind 
takes its point of starting from one or more memory -im- 
ages : and then, hy processes of comhining and modify- 
ing, it pictures the neioly created object. It would be a 
great mistake, however, to suppose that the mind 
always, or generally, sees its end from the begin- 
ning. There is uniformly something mysterious, 
something even that suggests divine inspiration, 
about all truly great work of the creative imagina- 
tion. Mozart's father is said to have recognized it 



138 PRIMEE OF PSYCHOLOGY 

as "a gift of God," when his son played, in this 
way, upon the first grand organ which he had ever 
seen. 

Imagination and Other Faculties. — The dependence 
of imagination upon intellect is suggested by a 
study of the very nature of imagination itself. The 
artist or inventor, of every grade and kind, thinks 
while he also imagines ; by this process of thinking 
he, in part, reaches the results which are ascribed 
to imagination ; and, by thinking, he certainly elab- 
orates and criticises the work of his own imagina- 
tion. And yet, as has just been seen, imagination 
in some sort outstrips both perception and thought ; 
and many of its choicest works flash in upon the 
mind, all ready-made at once, like inspirations from 
the divine mind. This does not, however, do away 
with the necessity for training the intellect in the 
interests of the imagination ; the truth plainly is 
that both these so-called '' faculties" work together 
hand in hand ; and no mind can be " great " which is 
deficient in either of the two. 

The influence of feeling upon imagination is also 
almost incalculable. The actor, for example, plays 
his part well only as he by a constant activity of im- 
agination enters into the situations and the inner 
meaning, as it were, of the part. But it is difiicult, 
if not impossible, for most persons to do this with- 
out the feelings becoming involved. How impos- 
sible must it be to play the part of King Lear with- 
out the imagination requisite to picture the father 
and the monarch in circumstances like his ! But 



MEMOEY AND IMAGINATION 139 

how difficult to do this without the heart being* sym- 
pathetically stirred ! This stirring of feeling, if it 
does not " run away " with the intellect of the artist, 
g-reatly helps and warms his imagination. And to 
say that imagination chooses materials to combine 
for the attainment of a chosen end is the same thing 
as to say that imagination is also an affair of will. 

Kind's of Imagination. — There are as many kinds of 
imagination as there are distinctive uses of this 
faculty. A distinction is sometimes made between 
fancy and imagination ; but it is truer to the facts to 
say that fancy is a species of imagination. We may 
then call by the term "fancy " such acts of imagina- 
tion as have less regard for what is probable or de- 
termined by known facts and laws ; such as are less 
likely to be connected with important practical in- 
terests rather than serving to amuse or to " tickle ; " 
and as such are less careful of method and less last- 
ingly pleasing to our feeling of the beautiful. 

Imagination may also be spoken of as practical, 
or scientific, or artistic, or philosophical, or ethical 
and religious. The great inventor is a man of pre- 
dominatingly practical use of imagination ; he has 
as an end in view something useful to be done. 
But it is a serious mistake to suppose that a student 
of any science can be great without a strong and 
lofty imagination. Indeed, the meanness and little- 
ness of a considerable proportion of the so-called 
" scientists " this very day is due to deficiency in im- 
agination. Mathematics and philosophy, too, ex- 
ercise the imagination in the very loftiest way ; they 



140 PRIMER OF PSYCHOLOGY 

are only excelled in their demands upon it by the 
spheres of morals and religion. And here again, the 
meanness in conduct of many, and also their nar- 
rowness in religion, comes largely from lack of im- 
agination. 



CHAPTEB IX 

THOUGHT AND LANGUAGE 

Many psychologists have treated of thought as 
though it were a separate faculty that follows wholly 
after perception, memory, and imagination have act- 
ed, and so takes the finished products of these facul- 
ties and subjects them to a wholly new form of treat- 
ment. It is true, indeed, that strength and grasp of 
thought proper are a comparatively late develop- 
ment. The young are often very quick and accu- 
rate in perception and in memory, while the su- 
perabundance of imagination in youth is a sort of 
common -place. But the young are seldom remark- 
ably thoughtful; and thoughtlessness is excused 
— perhaps rather too readily so, in these days — by 
the remark that it cannot be expected in early life. 
For it is experience that makes men thoughtful. 

Now, on the other hand, without actually " think- 
ing " — in the sense of the word which psychology is 
compelled to recognize — it is impossible even to 
gain any experience whatever. For activity of the 
intellect is necessary even in beginning experience. 
Perceiving tilings is '' minding " things ; and so is re- 
membering or imaginifig them. This somewhat diffi- 
cult truth we shall now try to make clear. 

Discriminating Consciousness Thus far states of 



142 PRIMER OF PSYCHOLOGY 

consciousness have been spoken of chiefly as though 
they were passive — mere conditions into which the 
mind is thrown by the stimulus of sensations or by 
the incoming- of ideas. But there is no state of con- 
sciousness in which the mind is not also active ; in- 
deed, this appeared true when attention was spoken 
of as belonging to every mental state (see p. 23f.) ; and 
when every state was considered as being also in one 
of its aspects a state of doing something (p. 14). 

Let it now be noticed, however, that the very~ex- 
istence of any state of consciousness, as known by 
the subject of it to be such a state and no other, im- 
plies activity in discrimination. This statement is 
not to be understood as though a faculty called " in- 
tellect " presided over consciousness, as it were, and 
observed what was going on in it, and then pro- 
nounced upon the event as belonging to this or that 
particular kind of state rather than to some other. 
The rather must all consciousness, as such, he regarded 
as having an active side, as heing discriminating con- 
sciousness. So, too, of course, no object of percep- 
tion, of memory, or of imagination can be known with- 
out implying the same activity of the mind in dis- 
criminating. Indeed, it is chiefly this very thing 
which makes us speak of the life of consciousness as 
*' mental." Or, to say the same thing in other 
words : The working of intellect in this primary sort 
of way is to be acknowledged in connection with the 
very beginnings of experience. For this reason such 
activity may be called " primary intellection." 

Physiological Conditions of Intellect. — All thinking, 



THOUGHT AND LANGUAGE 143 

even of the most rudimentary sort, implies work be- 
ing- done in the brain, which, in intensity and ex- 
tent of the areas involved, corresponds in some sort 
to the amount of the thinking*. It is not then a 
mere figure of speech when thinking- is called 
" brain-work." Perceiving, remembering, and im- 
agining are also brain-work; but thinking is pre- 
eminently so. Experiment shows that as the amount 
of intellectual activity, of active discriminating con- 
sciousness increases, the time required to perform it 
increases. This time is also a measure in someway 
of the brain-work. Thus it takes from one-tenth to 
five-tenths or more of a second longer to perform 
some simple act of discrimination than simply to 
react without discrimination. If the number of 
colors or letters exiDOsed for the quickest possible 
recognition increases from one to six, then the time 
required to think enough to recognize them in- 
creases from about three-tenths to about eight- 
tenths, or even to eleven-tenths of a second. 

It is also found that the lower animals — for ex- 
ample, dogs — may, after losing parts of the higher 
regions of the brain, be able to see light and to hear 
sounds, but without thinking any meaning into 
them. Such animals are called " soul-blind " or 
" soul-deaf." We not infrequently detect ourselves 
in a kind of use of the senses, or of memory, which has 
very little mind in it ; and we know that, other things 
being at all equal, this is a less fatiguing kind of 
work. But real mental work in the way of discrimi- 
nating makes us sweat or makes us tired. 



144 PRIMER OF PSYCHOLOGY 

Mental Activity in Discrimination The word " dis- 
crimination " has just been used for a lower and 
yet most general and really rather complex form of 
mental activity. For when we reflect upon the mat- 
ter further, it seems as though several different 
forms of activity were involved in this one. How, 
it may be asked, can one discriminate without being 
conscious both of likeness and unlikeness ; since a 
thing can be distinguished from others only as it is 
" like " some past experience or object, and so 25~also 
" unlike " other experiences or objects ? Even so 
simple a state as a toothache cannot be known as 
such (a peculiar " ache " that is located in a " tooth "), 
without being likened to something else ; and also 
deemed unlike yet a third something. And since 
all mental states, and all objects known in them, are 
many-sided and complex, it would appear that the 
mind must select certain elements or sides and re- 
late them to its past experience, if it is to think 
them at all. But this selection would seem to in- 
volve analysis and synthesis. Apparently, then, a 
number of subordinate processes enter into that 
complex mental activity which has just been called 
" primary intellection." 

Consciousness of Eesemblance. — Whenever we be- 
come aware that some state of our own, or some 
object which we are regarding, "resembles" or is 
"like" some other state or object, we reach an ex- 
perience which cannot possibly be described in any 
simpler terms. One may be able to tell correctly, 
or not, what any particular thing is like ; but no 



THOUGHT AND LANGUAGE 145 

one can tell what it is in g-eneral for one thing to he 
like another. This impossibility any one may quickly 
test for one's self. How would you describe " the 
consciousness of likeness," except by saying-, " Why, 
it is like, etc." ? But you would thus appeal to the 
very form of consciousness which you were trying* 
to describe. 

Let- it not be forgotten that it is a form of con- 
sciousness of which we are here speaking — a being 
conscious of reseinblance. This experience has to be 
accepted as accounting for itself. Things that are 
actually like each other might exist in close neigh- 
borhood forever ; and mental states that are like 
other mental states might follow each other forever ; 
and all this, of itself, would not account for the con- 
sciousness of resemblance. But this form of con- 
sciousness itself furnishes the account of all our 
ideas and all our knowledge of particular likenesses, 
both in things and in mental states. 

Consciousness of Difference. — Almost or quite equal- 
ly primary is that mental activity which may be 
called the being immediately aware of the unlike, 
or the " consciousness of difference." It is not easy, 
or perhaps even possible, to say which of these two 
forms of "discriminating consciousness" — the "con- 
sciousness of similarity" or the "consciousness of 
difference" — is the more primary. Both are alike 
necessary to all development of thought. It is a 
sort of shock, as produced especially by any sudden 
and marked change in the stream of consciousness, 
and often accompanied by surprised and painful 
10 



146 PRTMER OF PSYCHOLOGY 

feeling", which originally excites and guides the con- 
sciousness of difference. The bitter taste that is 
caused with the design to wean the infant, or the too 
warm temperature of his customary cup of milk, are 
instances. Such things occasion a pause, a doubt, a 
repeated application of the " noticing" " power of 
the mind. 

The early years of human life may exhibit a sur- 
prising power in discriminating differences in the 
qualities of objects and in the amounts of things. 
Eecent experiments in the schools of New Haven 
have shown how this form of consciousness devel- 
ops, on the whole, from the age of six to the age of 
seventeen ; and yet with certain variations depend- 
ent upon age, sex, and obscure individual peculiari- 
ties. On the whole, boys are somewhat superior to 
girls, excejot in the nice discrimination of shades of 
color. Men are known to be superior to women in 
their power to discriminate sensations produced by 
the divider's points on different areas of the skin 
(compare p. 99f.). It is very instructive to notice 
how sensitive children are to differences of quan- 
tity, especially where interest is strong. The boy 
quickly knows when one stick of candy has been 
abstracted from his hoard of six sticks, at an age 
long before he can count up to that number. Even 
crows will sometimes discriminate between four men 
and five ; while infants of four to six years old may 
discern correctly the difference, as a gross mass, be- 
tween seventeen and eighteen objects. On the other 
hand, the suggestions of sight cause most people to 



THOUGHT AND LANGUAGE 147 

go " quite wild " in their guesses at the difference 
between two weights. 

Comparison. — The effect of the foregoing two forms 
of conscious activity is very marked upon the charac- 
ter of our ideas. In this way the ideas are, more or 
less vaguely and fitfully at first, and yet consciously 
and actively, related to each other as like or unlike. 
Instead of being merely subject to their passive Jloio, 
ive think the ideas under the terms of thought. In- 
stead of simply recurring as like or unlike states or 
objects, they are actively compared, and pronounced 
like or unlike, and related together by an intellectual 
activity. Such distinctively " mental assimilation '* 
is therefore a distinct stage in mental development 
beyond that mere fusion of ideas to which reference 
was made (p. 78f.). It is the dawning of intellect ; 
it is that which is expressed by saying : ''I think " 
this to belong with that, and the other to be differ- 
ent from both. With reference to the same activity 
we say : " Hold on ; let us see ; let us put these two 
things side by side and notice them attentively, and 
then judge them to be fitly, in our minds, joined to- 
gether or classed apart." All this implies compar- 
ison resulting in what has been called either *' as- 
similation " or '' differentiation," according as the 
objects are judged like or judged unlike. 

Primary Judgment. — It was shown that some sort 
of judgment is implied in all developed perceptions 
by the senses (p. 89f.). This conscious relating of 
states, ideas, objects, as like or unlike in quality and 
quantity, is an act of judging. Or, to express the 



148 PEIMER or PSYCHOLOGY 

truth in general terms : The conscious affirming of 
relations of resemhlance and difference between the con- 
tents of consciousness is the prir^utwe form of judgment. 
We are judging in this way constantly. For ex- 
ample, a noise startles us, and we ask ourselves or 
some one else : " What was that noise ? " The 
question itself implies an excitement of the mind 
to thought. The answer — " It was a door slammed," 
or " was a clap of thunder " — is an act of judging 
which quiets and satisfies the mind. Or, again^ a 
noise is heard, and we exclaim to ourselves, " Two 
o'clock ! " A form appears in the door, and we cry 
out, " John ! " or " George ! " But equally, with little 
or no consciousness of excitement, moment by mo- 
ment we are thinking the objects of the senses, or 
our own ideas and thoughts ; making them thus 
to be such and no other objects, ideas, thoughts, 
that are likened to, or differenced from, one another. 
Developed Processes of Thought. — It is the custom 
with writers on logic and psychology to distinguish 
at least these four conscious activities as involved in 
all thinking : — (1) comparison, (2) identification, (3) 
generalization, (4) naming. A few words upon each 
of these processes is now in place ; since they are 
all modifications of the work of intellect (or the 
minding of things), as it operates to organize and 
develop experience. Something has already been 
said about (1) comparison. Let it now be noticed, in 
addition, that all actual objects are very complex. 
The result is, of course, that each one is like many 
other objects in some particulars, and in other par- 



THOUGHT A]^D LANGUAGE 149 

ticulars unlike. Suppose, for example, one is stand- 
ing- in front of a cathedral in Europe somewhere, 
which one has never seen before. One begins at 
once to '^ compare " it with other cathedrals. It is 
larger than the one at X. ; it is more purely Gothic ; 
it has more steeples or towers ; it is built of a differ- 
ent kind of stone, etc. One may, however, compare 
this cathedral with other churches that are not cathe- 
drals, or with other buildings that are not churches. 
In all this one would be tkiiiking the object, " mind- 
ing " it, as it were. 

But now it is also perfectly plain that in this 
activity of comparing one is also using (2) identifica- 
tion. This cathedral is like, or even unlike, other 
cathedrals, only as we agree with ourselves to con- 
sider all cathedrals as identical, as being the same 
in so far as they are cathedrals, and not factories, or 
mere stones, or flowers, or fish, or stars. So with the 
architecture, the steeples, the towers, the windows, 
etc. Even when we recognize a color as red, or a 
taste as sweet, we identify it by thought with what 
we have experienced before. 

This process also involves and leads to (3) gener- 
alization and classifying. This cathedral is, indeed, a 
particular cathedral, right here before us now, and 
the only one exactly like it in all the world. But in 
its being a " cathedral " to us, it is first generalized 
under a class by an act of thinking. And so it has 
sometimes been said : " Thought is the ordering of 
the manifold into a unity." Further, this class of 
objects has also (4) a name. It is already, by com- 



150 PEIMER OF PSYCHOLOGY 

mon usag-e, called "cathedral." Whenever one is 
engaged in the process of mastering any object by 
thought, one is somehow gratified and assisted by 
learning its name. Of this, however, more will be 
said later on. 

Stag^es or Forms of Thought.— It is also customary 
to speak of three kinds and products of thought. 
These are called conception, judgment, and reason- 
ing. But it has already been shown that it is judg- 
ing, in this most primary form in which it enters 
into all the work of the intellect, that is the very 
essence of all thinking. So that, properly speaking, 
to frame a conception it is necessary to judge. 
Keasoning, too, is only a process of judging, con- 
ducted in such a way that one judgment follows 
another in a recognized dependence upon it as upon 
its " reason "or *' ground." The nature of thought 
will, however, become more clearly apparent only if 
it be considered in all its three forms. 

Nature of a Concept — The term idea, oi* mental im- 
age, was applied to a state of consciousness which 
is ^'representative" of past experience. For this 
reason the term representative image was also em- 
ployed (p. 69). It was further seen that by processes 
which were called " fusion " (p. 78f.), and " freeing " 
of the ideas, they may become adapted, as it were, 
to represent i3ast experience in a way more general, 
if also less life-like and more vague. It is thinking, 
however, in the form of judging, which converts the 
ideas into conceptions. In other words, a conception 
of any object, or class of objects, is reached by a united 



THOUGHT AT^D LANGUAGE 151 

activity of the image-making and the judging faculty of 
the mind. 

Such a statement as that just made can best be 
tested by taking- it straight to daily experience. Two 
classes of philosophers — the Nominalists and the 
Kealists — have held divergent opinions on the nature 
of conception during a long period of time. Psy- 
chology, however, is interested to ask : What is it 
that actually goes on in the mind which corresponds 
to the name for any class of objects % What do you 
think, or think about, when you realize the mean- 
ing of a word like " lion," or " man ; " or even some 
more abstract word, like " virtue," or " state " ? In 
every case it will be found that, if any truly mental 
process is aroused in so-called conception, this proc- 
ess consists of series of pictures of the imagination 
(more or less vivid and life-like or dull and " sche- 
matic "), accompanied by activities in judging. With 
some persons the picture-making part is more pro- 
nounced ; with others, thinking in the form of judg- 
ment (and, perhaps, also talking to one's self). 

Kinds and dualities of Concepts. — It belongs to logic 
rather than to psychology to classify concepts as 
though they were real existences, and to tell how 
they may be combined into higher and higher forms 
of judgment. Thus concepts are said to have " con- 
tent " or " intension," and " extension." By the 
former is meant the number of common properties 
which the objects are known to have, that are essen- 
tial to their being called by the same name. Every 
lion, for example, must have four legs, or be a " quad- 



152 PRIMEK OF PSYCHOLOGY 

ruped," must be an eater of flesh, or " carnivorous," 
etc. By the latter term (" extension ") is understood 
the number of subordinate classes, or of individuals, 
to which the name can properly be applied. The mis- 
taken statement is sometimes made that extension 
and intension vary inversely — that is, as one becomes 
greater the other becomes less. For further details 
on all these subjects, books on logic may be con- 
sulted ; but psychology has little real interest in 
them. 

Logical Judgments. — The nature of the mental ac- 
tivity which takes place in all thinking, even the 
most elementary, has been seen to involve a kind of 
judgment. This kind of judgment has been called 
"primary" (p. 147); it has also just been declared 
necessary to all forming of conceptions. No concep- 
tion (or " idea," or " notion," as is popularly said) 
can be had of a " lion," or of a " man," or a " flower," 
without picturing and judging it to be like some par- 
ticular object and unlike some other object. But, on 
the other hand, these so-called conceptions, or con- 
densed results of thinking, become, in turn, the terms 
which are united into more elaborate judgments. 
To take the same example, if one learns that a lion 
is a " quadruped " and '' carnivorous," whether by 
actually counting his legs and seeing him eat flesh, 
or by being told about him, one is then prepared to 
pronounce the judgment : "A lion is a ^carnivorous 
quadruped." This particular judgment thus unites a 
conception (lion), which is the subject of the sen- 
tence, with two other conceptions (quadruped and 



THOUGHT AND LANGUAGE 153 

carnivorous), which are the predicates. It appears, 
then, that a logical judgment is a mental act uniting 
conceptions, or " condensed " results of past acts of judg- 
ment, which are already familiar to us and which have 
previously heen fixed hy names. For in this case we 
know, at least, what it is for an animal to have legs, 
to eat flesh, etc. 

Forms of Judgment. — The mental act of uniting (or 
" synthesis ") may take place under any one or more 
of several forms. Among these the following are the 
most important : (1) Resetnblance or difference. This 
has already been seen (p. 148) to be the form most fa- 
miliar in the primary judgment. Now, suppose, how- 
ever, that one sees in a collection of wild animals an 
unknown kind. "What is it % " is the question which 
rises to the mind and to the lips. It is like a tiger, 
because it has stripes and is whitish on the under 
side of the belly. But it is not a tiger, because the 
stripes are faint along the sides and brownish-yellow 
above ; while the tiger has plainly marked black 
bars on a bright orange-yellow ground. It is an ani- 
mal ; it is a quadruped ; it looks carnivorous ; it is 
most like a tiger ; but it not enough like a tiger to 
be one. What, then, is it ? Its name is " a jaguar ; " 
one henceforth, then, judges the jaguar to have the 
resemblances and differences which one has thus 
marked. 

(2) Space and time give us forms under which 
certain logical judgments fall. Thus the inkstand 
is related to the table as being on it ; and the ink 
to the stand as being in it, etc. One thing is *'far 



154 PRIMER OF PSYCHOLOGY 

to the right " and another " near by on the left " of 
us. This day is "after" yesterday, in time, and 
" before " to-morrow. Judgments of relations in 
space and of quantity, judgments in geometry and 
arithmetic, are of this order. 

But one of the most early and interesting of all the 
forms of judgment is (3) that which attributes an 
action to an agent. Yery early in life — it cannot be 
told how early — the judgment which refers our_ex- 
perience to what is done by things acting upon us, 
or upon each other, is framed. When first the infant 
says " hot," on pointing to his steaming cup of drink, 
he probably is not simply judging that an attribute 
belongs to a subject, but rather that a thing will, 
under certain circumstances, do something to him 
(namely, burn him). On this effect of our own con- 
scious activity upon our judgments and our reason- 
ings we shall remark further in another place. 

Language and Thought.— It has already been seen 
that the " naming " of things, and of our own states 
of mind, our ideas and thoughts, is an important 
part of thinking itself. This fact has occasioned the 
inquiry as to " the relation of language to thought." 
Connected with this main inquiry are many subor- 
dinate inquiries, such as, why the lower animals 
cannot invent and use language, how far thought is 
possible without language, etc. Into these matters 
we cannot, of course, here enter at length. It should 
be remembered, however, that it is one thing to say 
that thinking cannot develop to any extent without 
the aid of some kind of recognized symbol for its 



THOUGHT ATTD LANGUAGE 155 

products, and quite another thing to affirm that 
words, as the peculiarly human symbols of thoughts, 
are indispensable to all thinking. The latter propo- 
sition certainly is not true. The deaf and dumb can 
think very elaborately by helping themselves with 
symbols which appeal to sight. In the novel, 
" God's Fool," it is shown, in accordance with a true 
psychology, how conceptions may be elaborated and 
communicated to one blind as well as deaf and dumb, 
by tracing symbols on the skin. Probably, however, 
without some kind of recognized sign to accompany, 
and, as it were, to sustain thinking, it could not go 
on ; and without words joined together in the form 
of judgments the mental processes tend to become 
a mere succession of acts of image-making. On the 
other hand, with the use of words, the symbols them- 
selves are glibly united so as often, with little or no 
real thinking underneath, to bring the mind to the 
same practical conclusion as that which would be 
reached much more slowly by stopping " to think 
ourselves through," as it is customary to say. 

The Nature of Language. — It is natural for man, 
under the influence of any strong feeling, to open his 
mouth and send forth some peculiar and expressive 
sound. The lower animals, too, have their natural 
cries and expressive sounds, as well as other symbols 
which signify something to other members of the 
same species. But none of them have anything like 
the nicely modulated power of hearing and of utter- 
ance which man readily attains. So that sounds are 
with man his most easy and appropriate gesture ; 



156 PRIMER OF PSYCHOLOGY 

altliough they are greatly helped out, in tlie case of 
some races and of individuals of all races, by other 
forms of exiDression. Thus it has been said : " Speak- 
ing is the instinct of man ; man builds speech as the 
bird its nest." But these instinctive and expressive 
sounds are not, as yet, genuine words. They must 
themselves come under the influence of the very form 
of mental life which they are fitted to serve; and 
this is thought, ending in what has been explained 
as the forming of conceptions (p. 150f.). 

Words and Thoughts.— To convert a sound into a 
genuine word, it must be used as not simply a symbol 
of some mental state, but as a so-called " movable 
type." That is, it must be intelligently emioloyed as 
standing for what we have already seen to be gen- 
eral in nature, and to belong to a whole class of ob- 
jects, as made known to thought. Even those stu- 
dents of the mental life of the lower animals who are 
most favorably disposed to rank it highly, are pretty 
well agreed that these animals do not use their vari- 
ous symbols as " movable types." This is not only 
because their organs of hearing and of utterance are 
so inferior to those of man, but also because they are 
not capable of thinking as man learns to think, and 
in the highest sense of the word. A pretty story 
from the French of M. Taine will illustrate this : A 
little girl of only eighteen months had been accus- 
tomed to play hide-and-go-seek with her mother, 
calling out, ''Coucour She had also been told about 
things hot, *' Ca hrule " (" that will burn "). On seeing 
for the first time the setting sun disappear sud- 



THOUGHT AND LANGUAGE 157 

denly behind the hill, she cried out : "JL Vule 
coucou" ("The burning' thing- is playing hide-and- 
go-seek "). This infant had made a grand " gener- 
alization," as we should say ; and she matched it by 
using words " as movable types." It seems quite 
certain that no animal, however intelligent, ever i3er- 
forms an act of real thinking or uses the symbols 
of its own mental states in a way to equal this infant 
of eighteen months. 

Origin of Language. — The debate has been very 
long and hot as to how language could have 
originated. It is a question which the science of 
mind can answer only in one way. Language origi- 
nated and has developed as both the expression and 
the essential aid to the development of mental life. 
In different races and individuals it marks the char- 
acter and the amount of mental development as no 
other sign does. But it also gives conditions to 
mental development. So that those who are born 
into the inheritance of a highly organized language 
— like Greek, German,' or English — are, in that very 
way, invited and almost compelled to think and to 
feel in accordance with it. 



CHAPTEE X 

REASONING AND KNOWLEDGE 

When speaking of the stages or forms of thought, 
(p. 150) reasoning was mentioned as the last and 
most elaborate of them all. Yet incredibly swift 
instinctive reasoning enters into all our daily life, 
even into those mental acts which seem to be the 
results of immediate perception by the senses. For 
example, we hear a noise, and say: "The train is 
coming ;" or we hear a succession of sounds, and at 
once declare : " There is a fire near the corner of A 
and J^ streets." 

Reasoning in Perception by the Senses. — It is plain 
that a sort of reasoning may be implied in such per- 
ceptions as are expressed by the sentences : " I hear 
the train coming ;" or " I see Mr. Smith coming down 
the street." This fact may be brought out by sup- 
posing a pause before the judgment which results 
from perception is pronounced ; and that this pause 
results from a doubt arising in the mind. To keep 
the same example : suppose we are not quite sure 
whether it is the train coming or the rumbling of 
distant thunder which we hear; or are in doubt 
whether it is indeed Mr. Smith, or is Mr. Brown, 
whom we see coming down the street. In such a 
case we should be disposed to listen or to look more 



REASOlSriNG AND KT^OWLEDGE 159 

intently, so as — note the expressive phrase — to 
" make up our minds." It is also plain that in this 
very process of making- up the mind, more or less of 
reasoning might be done. Careful listening" or 
looking" might result, without our knowing why, in 
its being *' borne in upon " the mind that the noise 
was, after all, thunder, and not the train ; that the 
person approaching was, after all, Mr. Brown, and 
not Mr. Smith. 

But it is not nearly so easy to suppose we could 
attain the knowledge, that *' there is a fire near the 
corner of A and B streets," from merely hearing a 
succession of sounds, and without more or less of 
conscious reasoning. For let a case like this be ex- 
amined somewhat more closely. What is really 
heard is only a succession of sounds of a peculiar 
quality, intensity, timbre, etc. If they have been 
associated by past experience in such a way that 
they are now heard as " the sounds of the fire-bell," 
there need be no present conscious act of reasoning. 
But these sounds are also heard in a certain peculiar 
order and up to a certain number ; let us suppose, at 
first, five in succession, and then, after a longer in- 
terval, four more. This signifies to the mind that 
the fire-bell is striking for Station 54. Here, again, 
little or no conscious work of reasoning may be 
done ; although it is likely that the flow of the men- 
tal life could be expressed in some such succession 
of judgments as the following : " Fire-bell is strik- 
ing — five times, four times; that means Station 54." 
But now shall it be said that there is no added 



160 PEIMER OF PSYCHOLOGY 

reasoning needed to reach tlie jndg-ment — "There 
is a fire near the corner of A and JB streets " ? Here, 
too, the actual amount of conscious reasoning would 
plainly depend upon the character of the previous 
experience. For to the mind of the chief of the fire- 
department the alarm 54 is an immediate excitant 
of the thought of a fire in that locality. But for the 
stranger in town it might lead simply to an inquiry, 
which could be answered only by a concluding judg- 
ment that must be itself reasoned out. '^ 

Nature of True Reasoning It is now possible to 

see more clearly what is the real nature of all those 
mental acts which are entitled to be called " acts of 
reasoning," in the highest sense of the word. For 
suppose that, in the foregoing case, or in any simi- 
lar case, after a thoughtful pause, the conclusion 
follows as something consciously derived from cer- 
tain "reasons" or "grounds." How do you know 
that this succession — five and then four — of peculiar 
sounds means a fire at the corner of A and £ streets ? 
JBecause I see that it says so on the card I have taken 
from my pocket ; or 'because I remember hearing a 
fireman say so only the other day. Whenever we 
are conscious of making such a connection between 
two judgments as that one of them is related by us 
to one or more other judgments as finding in them 
its reason or cause, then we are ." reasoning," in the 
highest sense of the word. In a single sentence : 
Genuine logical inference, or reasoning, takes place 
whenever two judgments are mentally related in such 
manner that one is made the " reason " {or " ground ") of 



REASONING AND KNOWLEDGE 161 

the other, with a consciousness of the relation thus estab- 
lished hetween them,. 

The mucli-debated question, whether the lower 
animals are capable of reasoning", must be considered 
in the light of this definition. There can be no 
doubt that they often appear exceedingiy ingenious 
in adapting means to ends. Some of them, which 
do not appear, as judged by the perfection of their 
nervous system, to be among the highest in the scale 
of intellectual life — such as ants, bees, and many 
kinds of beetles — exhibit signs of wonderful " intel- 
ligence." Some of the plants also give signs some- 
what similar. Unlike most plants, however, the high- 
er animals frequently break the bonds of habit, and 
thus do things "out of their usual line," as though 
in adaptation to an emergency. Bright children 
astonish us by signs of apparent extraordinary intel- 
ligence of the same kind. Yet, if we question them 
as to why they concluded that this, rather than some- 
thing else, was the proper thing to do, they can per- 
haps give no "reason " or " ground" as having oc- 
curred to them. It is doubtful whether an animal 
ever "reasons" in the sense of the word which has 
just been explained. For example, does the learned 
dog which has been taught to bring his master an 
umbrella, if it is raining, but a cane, if it is fair, 
ever really conclude : " The umbrella is the right 
thing, because it is raining ; " or, " Since it is fair, 
therefore the cane only will be needed " ? 

Nature of the Reason, or "Ground." — It has just 
been seen that reasoning, properly speaking, involves 
11 



162 PRIMER OF PSYCHOLOGY 

conscious recognition of a relation hetween two or more 
judgments ; such as that one of them is " concluded " 
from the others as its ^^ reason'''' or "" ground r Tims 
we often say, " I can see no good reason for that ; " 
or, " You have absolutely no ground for your con- 
clusion to stand upon." And now the further inquiry 
might be raised : What is it, then, for one judgment 
to stand related to another as to its reason or ground ? 
What is the essential thing about this very relation 
of judgments in every act of reasoning ? And here 
the books on logic point to the nature of the so- 
called " Middle Term." 

Let us take an example. Suppose that I see a 
crocodile, or read a description of one, for the first 
time. Now, the question arises whether a crocodile 
is a mammal or not (that is, whether its young are 
born, and nursed by the mother, or hatched from 
eggs, and not nursed). I inquire to find some 
"reason" or *' ground" for judging one way or the 
other — ^that is, for the conclusion which I am to make 
as the reasonable and well-grounded one. I observe, 
or am told, that the crocodile is a cold-blooded ani- 
mal. I remember that all mammals are warm-blooded 
animals. And at once I draw the conclusion, as the 
necessary and inevitable thing : '' The crocodile is 
not a mammal." This act of reasoning may be ex- 
pressed as follows: Not-a-mammal is affirmed (or 
predicated) of the subject crocodile, because not- 
warm-blooded is affirmed of it ; whereas, on the con- 
trary, warm-blooded must be affirmed of every mam- 
mal. 



REASONING AND KNOWLEDGE 163 

If, now, we throw the statement of this mental proc- 
ess into general terms, and then express it by the 
relations of letters, we may choose any one of several 
forms. We may say, for example ; S is (or is not) 
P, because it is (or is not) M; or, li S is M, then it 
is also P(why? hecause MisP); or because JfisP 
and Sis M, therefore S is P. All the while, however 
— and in whatever way the case be put — it is our 
knowledge of JT which determines whether we shall 
conclude that S is or is not P. In the case just 
given, being " warm-blooded " is the " middle term," 
so-called, and it determines that the crocodile cannot 
be concluded to be a mammal, because all mammals 
are warm - blooded, but the crocodile is not warm- 
blooded. 

It is in view of this relation of the middle term in 
every act of reasoning, to both parts of the conclud- 
ing judgment, that reasoning itself is sometimes 
called " immediate judgment," or Judging through 
some Qnediating conception, or middle term. 

Kinds of Reasoning^. — There are, of course, as many 
principal kinds of reasoning as there are principal 
kinds of relations which different classes of objects 
may sustain to each other. And here let us refer at 
once to the different main kinds of judgments (see p. 
153). First, there is reasoning along the line of 
resemblances and differences. If two things are 
both sufficiently like a third thing, then they are 
like each other ; they belong to one class, and deserve 
a common name. What it is to be " sufficiently 
like" can never be determined once for all. Hence 



164 PRIMER OF PSYCHOLOGY 

the classifications of the sciences, with their names, 
are constantly liable to change. New and important 
differences in things hitherto thought to be " suffi- 
ciently alike " may be observed ; and this observa- 
tion will " upset " our previous conclusions regard- 
ing them. Second : some trains of reasoning — as in 
mathemathics and measurement — argue about quan- 
tities and their relations, comparing them with one 
another through one or more middle terms, and thus 
drawing conclusions as to equality, or difference; in 
a great variety of subordinate forms. Yet again, 
third : some change may be noticed and the conclu- 
sion drawn that it is due to the action of some par- 
ticular agent ; for the reason that something which 
is known as a common sign of that agent is con- 
nected with that particular change. 

Forms and Figures of Reasoning. — It is customary 
in logic to distinguish between those forms of rea- 
soning in which a single sentence connects the con- 
cluding judgment immediately with its reason, by 
the words " therefore " or " because " (the entliymeme ; 
for example : " The President is fallible, because he is 
a man "), and the fuller forms in which the grounds of 
the conclusion are stated in two separate sentences 
called the " premises " of the argument. As an ex- 
ample of the latter we may make a "syllogism" 
out of the reasoning about the crocodile — thus : All 
mammals are warm-blooded animals : the crocodile 
is not a warm-blooded animal ; therefore the croco- 
dile is not a mammal. 

Since there are different ways of arranging the 



EEASONING AND KNOWLEDGE 165 

subject (S) and the predicate (P) of the concluding- 
judg-ment, and also the middle term (31) which 
forms the link in the argument that binds subject 
and predicate together, different " figures " of the 
syllogism arise. These three, as expressed in let- 
ters, are customarily recog-nized : 



I. 




II. 


III 


Mis P 




Pis M 


jr is p 


Sis M 


or 


Sis M 


Jf is >S' 


Sis r 


• 


.'Sis P 


•/ S is P 



Induction and Deduction These two forms of rea- 
soning- are customarily distinguished in something 
like the following way : If a number of individual 
cases are observed to be all alike in one or more par- 
ticulars, then we leap to the conclusion that they are 
alike in all essential respects ; that they belong to 
one class ; and that " all " the individuals of this class 
have these common characters. This is making an 
induction. It will be noticed that this argument 
goes from the particular to the general or universal, 
from the individual case to the class. If, on the con- 
trary, the general principle is already known, and we 
then come across an " individual " which seems, in 
some respects, to fall under the ]principle, we at 
once conclude that this individual falls under the 
principle in all important respects. Here we argue 
from the general to the particular ; from the rule to 
the case ; from the class to the individual member of 
the class. So far as the mental action is concerned^ 
howeve7\ it is essentially the same in hotJi induction and 



166 PRIMER OF PSYCHOLOGY 

deduction ; in hoth the argument consists in reaching one 
judgment as a conclusion, hy starting from other judg- 
ments as its reason or ground. 

The instance already used may illustrate tliis dif- 
ference also. Suppose that, on first seeing a croco- 
dile, I find by actual observation that it is " a cold- 
blooded animal." The next animal which I observe 
that has all the other more ^iDparent characters of a 
crocodile, I expect to find " cold-blooded " alsq^ If 
several crocodiles have actually been found to have 
this character, I do not hesitate to say : " All croco- 
diles are cold-blooded animals ; " and great would 
be my astonishment to find one that was not so. In 
affirming this general character of the class, I have 
made an induction. But now I am still in doubt 
whether the crocodile is a mammal or not. This 
question, however, I settle by a deductive argument 
— that is, by referring it to the principle already es- 
tablished: '^ JVo cold-blooded animal is a mammal " 
(comp. p. 162). 

Principle of all Argument. — But, how — it may be 
asked — does one venture at all to argue so confi- 
dently from what one immediately knows, by observ- 
ing it, to what is still unknown ? Whence comes this 
assurance that, if several crocodiles are observed to 
be cold-blooded, we do not need to examine the 
next one, but may infer that it, too, is so ? Might 
not that very next crocodile turn out to be warm- 
blooded? And what should we do then with our 
confidence in our reasoning powers ? To one of 
these questions, the answer must undoubtedly be : 



REASONING AND KNOWLEDGE 167 

Yes, the next animal, which seemed in all other re- 
spects like those we had already seen, migJit turn out 
unlike them even in so important a character as this. 
Then one of several diffierent things would have to 
be concluded : Either this animal ought not to be 
called a crocodile, because it is not cold-blooded ; or 
some crocodiles only are cold-blooded, and there are, 
at least, two kinds of crocodiles ; or else, perhaps, 
here is an astonishing " freak " in old Dame Nature 
that she should produce a warm-blooded crocodile. 

In any event, however, we should go right on 
trusting our reasoning powers in general ; and, in- 
deed, what choice could we possibly have in such a 
matter, since we could not even distrust them by 
arguing against them, except by using them with 
confidence ? Only we should get more and more 
cautious in our particular inductions and deductions ; 
and this would produce the development desired of 
these same reasoning powers. For example, a child 
may be at first inclined to drink from any cup of 
milk brought to it, or to put out its hand to pat 
every dog it meets. But being burned or bitten 
once, it might conclude : no milk is safe to drink, 
no dog is safe to pat. Yet next it learns the signs 
of difference, and so concludes : some cups of milk 
(and what ones) are safe to drink ; some dogs (and 
what ones) do not bite when they are caressed. 

The principle which is sometimes said to under- 
lie all reasoning is called " the principle of suffi- 
cient reason." But, so far as psychology can go, 
this simply means that the mind actually does keep 



168 PRIMER OF PSYCHOLOGY 

on drawing" conclusions on grounds, or reasons, 
whicli it deems " sufficient " for that very end. That 
is, we have now reached an ultimate principle — one 
beyond which psycholog-y has nothing- to offer in 
explaining the behavior of the mind. 

Tests of Reasoning — The reasons which one is 
practically obliged to take as " sufficient " for one's 
conclusions are very different indeed under different 
circumstances and with different classes of subjects. 
In mathematics they are of an entirely different 
order from those which one is obliged to follow in 
life. And this is not because mathematics is so real 
and the more doubtful practical conclusions so un- 
real ; but just the contrary. It is " pure " mathe- 
matics Avhich is totally unreal ; and that is one 
reason why men can argue about it so confidently. 
Its conceptions and terms can be considered without 
regard to real facts, by a process of abstraction. 
But we cannot deal this way with nature, much less 
with human conduct. In these spheres we can only 
reach, by reasoning, what is more or less likely to 
be true. It is not absolutely certain that the sun will 
rise to-morrow, or that the man who jumps from a 
window in the sixth story will get hurt. But those 
are called " fools " who do not reason and act as 
though it were so. 

The physical sciences are constantly being disap- 
pointed and going wrong, in both their inductions 
and their deductions. The popular impression that 
they have arrived at fixed, unchanging, and abso- 
lutely indubitable laws is quite wrong. But gradu- 



REASONING AND KNOWLEDGE 169 

ally they are correcting their past mistakes, verify- 
ing their correct guesses, and building up a struct- 
ure of well-reasoned conclusions based on valid 
grounds. 

In testing their inductions, or " jumps " to general 
conclusions, the sciences make use of certain so- 
called " methods " or " rules." Among these the 
following three are most important : (1) The 
method of agreement; (2) the method of differ- 
ence ; and (3) the method of concomitant variation. 
By the first rule it is meant that objects or events 
which are in any way known to have like qualities or 
conditions may safely be inferred to belong to the 
same class or to be due to the same causes. By the 
second rule it is meant that, when objects or events 
differ in important ways, they must be inferred to 
belong to different classes or to be due to different 
causes. And by the third rule it is meant that, 
where two or more different objects or events vary 
with proportional intensities, it may safely be in- 
ferred that they belong to the same class or are due 
to the same causes 

Nature of Knowledge — We constantly hear men 
saying ; " I hnow that this is (or is not) true ; " or, " I 
know (or do not know) this object (or that person)." 
Such a saying excites no surprise ; for that knowl- 
edge should be, in any sense, a mystery, it has prob- 
ably never occurred to most persons to suspect. 
Yet, as one of our modern students of mental life 
has truly said: " The relation ofJcnoioing is the most 
mysterious thing in the world." In view of what 



170 PRIMER OF PSYCHOLOGY 

has already been sliown as to the nature of percep- 
tion, judgment, and reasoning", it must be apparent 
that the popular use of this word " knowledge " is 
very loose and often inaccurate. Can a man know 
what is not true % Can he know that yonder object 
is a cow, when it is indeed a horse ; or that he met 
Mr. X. upon the street yesterday, because he saw 
him plainly, when Mr. X. has already proved that 
he was a hundred miles away at that very h^ur ? 
How, too, shall one know whether there are or are 
not ghosts (or black swans or warm-blooded croco- 
diles) ; or even that, in some other planet, heavy (?) 
bodies may not tend to fly away from each other 
rather than to approach ? For if there is any gen- 
eral truth which may be known, it is this, that men 
have claimed (and do still claim) to know, beyond a 
doubt, almost every conceivable absurdity. 

Shall the word " knowledge," however, be so re- 
stricted as to apply it only to what is absolutely be- 
yond all doubt % This would perhaps be found to 
limit its sphere unduly ; for it might appear that, 
for each one, only his own present state of mind, as 
such, is known as " absolutely beyond all doubt." 
The final answer to such questions, however, does 
not belong to psychology, but to a department of 
philosophy which is called "theory of knowledge." 

Belief and Knowledge.— One important truth is 
brought to our notice by the way in which the word 
knowledge is ordinarily used. There is a sort of 
conviction, certainty, belief, in all knowledge. 
" Belief " is sometimes opposed to " knowledge," as 



EEASONING AND KNOWLEDGE 171 

though the two were contradictory ; and, indeed, 
mere belief is not enough to warrant knowledge. 
But without belief, of a certain sort, there is no such 
thing as knowledge. It is a curious and interesting 
illustration of this truth to notice how men bring 
their fist down hard upon the table, or stamp their 
foot upon the ground, or " pounce upon " their words 
with great emphasis, when they are telling what 
they helieve they know. " It is this, and not that," 
they say in the warmest possible way. " I tell you 
I know it is so." This is not a sentence which most 
men, when contradicted, are apt to say without some 
evidence of a glow of conviction. In fact, to say, " I 
feel perfectly sure," is, in popular speech, the same 
thing as to say, " I hnoiv.'' This belief — as it were — 
slumbers in all knowledge, but is apt to be aroused 
as soon as what we consider our knowledge is called 
in question. It has been called an "emotion of 
conviction " by one writer. It exists as truly in the 
man who " coolly " (■?) refuses to discuss his pet 
theory in science, politics, or religion, as in the man 
who affirms his theory with the greatest apparent 
fanaticism. 

Development of Knowledge — Our past study has 
shown us that, in no unmeaning use of the words, 
all knowledge is a developmeiit. That knowledge of 
things which we call " immediate," and which comes 
with the use of the senses, is really a matter of 
growth. The infant had to learn, and actually did 
learn, to know its own body, with each of its particu- 
lar members, its own self, and all the things that 



172 PRIMER OF PSYCHOLOGY 

now make up the world of its experience. Yes, since 
every perception by the senses, and every full act of 
self-consciousness, is an activity that takes place 
only as a process in time, it is an important truth 
that each single " knowledge " is a growth, a de- 
velopment ; while no one would think of disputing 
that the body of knowledge which belongs to the in- 
dividual or to the race is a matter of growth. 

Another truth to be noticed is that, in the attain- 
ment and growth of knowledge, all the activities of 
the mind are involved. That this is true, so far as 
all the forms of intellectual activities are concerned, 
is readily apparent. Judgment, memory, imagina- 
tion, and even reasoning, have all been seen to be 
employed in attaining a knowledge of things 
through the senses. Feeling also is undoubtedly 
involved in the attainment and growth of knowledge. 
As Goethe says : " All comes at last to feeling ;" and 
" What you don't feel you'll never catch." This is 
indeed an exaggerated way of stating the truth. 
But it has just been seen how one form of feeling— a 
sort of "emotion or conviction" — is found in all our 
knowledge. The primary kinds of f aeling, such as 
surprise, expectation, anger, fear, and hope, enter 
into and modify all our processes of percejDtion and 
reasoning. He who expects or dreads to see any 
particular object will have what he actually does 
see influenced by his expectation or his dread. 
Every sound is interpreted as being this rather 
than some other sound, under the influence of latent 
or more obvious emotion. And that the will takes 



REASONING AND KNOWLEDGE 173 

part in the production of the state of knowledge is 
seen to be true as soon as we recall that attention is 
necessary to knowledge, and that the direction of 
attention is so largely a matter of will ; as well as 
that our knowledge of things is so dependent upon 
all the use and control of the movable parts of the 
body ; and that this is also so much a matter of will. 
As to the knowledge of ourselves, we may quote 
again from Goethe : " How can a man learn to know 
himself ? By reflection never, only by action." 

Kinds of Knowledge — All acts of knowledge may 
be divided into classes according to two or three 
different principles. Thus all knowledge is either 
(1) immediate, or (2) inferential. Immediate knowl- 
edge is such as is got in our use of the senses, or in 
the observation of our own states when we do no 
conscious reasoning. Inferential knowledge is such, 
on the other hand, as is reached by consciously 
reasoning from premises to conclusion, or from one 
judgment to another. 

But if the processes of knowledge are considered 
according to the classes of objects known, two kinds 
may also be distinguished. These are : (1) the 
knowledge of Self, and (2) the knowledge of things. 
The former might then be said to come by way of 
self-consciousness (compare p. 30f.) and the latter 
through perception by the senses. But this would 
apply only to immediate knowledge ; for knowledge 
about ourselves and also about things requires for 
its attainment and growth just the same use of the 
powers of conception, judgment, and reasoning. 



174 PRIMER OF PSYCHOLOGY 

Finally, it may be said that by knowledge all the 
individual experiences are related together so as to 
become parts of a system. Thus we may think of 
the growth of knowledge as a sort of progressive organ- 
ization of experience itself 



CHAPTER XI 

EMOTIONS, SENTIMENTS, AND DESIEES 

Importai^t changes take place in the character of 
the feelings as the life of knowledge grows. As we 
gain experience of ourselves, and of things and our 
relations to them, this " feeling-aspect " of con- 
sciousness becomes more and more complex. Many- 
curious and interesting mixtures and conflicts also 
take place among the more simple forms of the feel- 
ings themselves ; this fact, too, increases the variety 
and complex character of the more highly devel- 
oped life of feeling. Still further, many of the 
stronger feelings especially produce very important 
and almost immediate changes in the conditions of 
the bodily organs. These changes in turn make 
themselves felt by the mind ; and this itself pro- 
duces new modifications of feeling. Once more, 
there are few or none of the feelings that do not 
quickly incite the desire to do something. They 
are themselves either painful or pleasurable (see 
p. 59f.) ; and they have reference to objects that may 
possibly be avoided or gained. As one might say 
— speaking in an abstract way — they tend to move 
the will ; they are " motives " or forceful influences 
to some form of action. This effect on the mind 
also makes itself strongly felt. 



176 PRIMER OF PSYCHOLOGY 

Classes of Feelings — It can scarcely be considered 
strange, after what has already (p. 56) been said, if it 
is again found necessary to confess that human feel- 
ings are too varied and complex to be strictly clas- 
sified. This is actually the case. There has never 
been, and there never will be, any wholly satisfactory 
classification of the feelings. We shall, however, 
on grounds which will be made more clear later on, 
distinguish between the ernotions and the sentiments. 
If, then, those states are also considered, whBre 
either the emotions or the sentiments begin to oper- 
ate somewhat strongly to influence the will, to in- 
duce or move us to do something, a third class, 
called the desires, may be distinguished. It is of the 
emotions, the sentiments, and the desires that this 
chapter treats. Only it should be understood that 
the last of the three classes (the desires) empha- 
sizes especially those states in which mere feeling 
tends to pass over into willing. 

Nature of an Emotion. — In order that any form of 
feeling may become an emotion, two things are 
chiefly necessary. The first of these is that the feel- 
ing itself should acquire a certain intensity. All 
know well enough what is meant by the intensity of 
a feeling, just as directly and undoubtedly as they 
know what is meant by the intensity of a sensation. 
On account of its so-called internal and subjective 
character, however, there are no means of measuring 
the intensity of feelings as there are of measuring 
the intensity of sensations. When any consider- 
able increase in the intensity of any form of feeling 



EMOTIONS, SENTIMENTS, AND DESIRES 177 

takes place, this increase soon produces a variety of 
changes in the condition of the different bodily or- 
gans — such as the skin, the muscles, the action of 
the heart and lungs, and so of the parts used in 
swallowing and of the whole digestive canal, etc. 
These changes are now themselves felt ; and the feel- 
ing of them constitutes the second important char- 
acteristic of an emotion. Considerctble intensity of feel- 
ing and the " tinge " o?' " suffusion " of consciousness hy 
the resulting hodily developments (" the bodily reson- 
ance ") are then the more notable features of every 
emotion. 

Primary Kinds of Emotions — Some forms of human 
feeling, which may be classed among the emotions, 
are of the most elementary and universal character. 
Not only are they found among all human beings 
very early in life, but even the lower animals ex- 
hibit plain signs of similar forms of feeling. Of 
these i3erhaps the most important are anger, fear, 
grief and joy, astonishment, curiosity, jealousy, and 
sympathy. These involve, of necessity, only a very 
low development of mind ; but they may be said to 
be related in the order above named, to the growth 
of ideas and to the acquirement of experience. For 
example, if one grasps the hand of a young child, 
or in any way opposes its free movement, one may 
arouse physical signs of feeling similar to those 
exhibited when one sets one's cane in the path of a 
serpent or a young alligator. Infants also show 
signs of fear before they can possibly Itnoio anything 
to be afraid of. One observer noticed fear of cats 



178 PRIMER OF PSYCHOLOGY 

in a girl of only fourteen weeks old ; another beard 
the cry of fear, at the barking of a dog, in a child of 
the same age. Astonishment is the emotion of 
strong surprise, and is closely connected with both 
fear and joy. Curiosity, too, manifests itself in 
children, as in certain young animals, by a sort of 
physical and mental restlessness, long before any 
real " intellectual curiosity," as an affair of intelli- 
gent choice of ends, can arise. Even sympathy is 
originally instinctive, blind, and common to man 
with the lower animals. Indeed, one may properly 
use this word for that tendency to " harmonize " our 
consciousness with that of others, which is quite 
universal. Children and adults "get mad," and 
grieve, and fear, and wonder, in company. 

Development of an Emotion. — Every emotion runs a 
course, as it were, although it may seem to spring 
into being at once. Some idea, thought, memory, 
or it may be merely sensory agitation, arouses a sort 
of local storm in certain nerve-centres of the brain. 
This storm spreads from centre to centre, as it were ; 
it sweeps down the nerve-tracts that lead to the ex- 
ternal parts of the body, to the skin, muscles, and 
joints, to the heart, and lungs, and other viscera. 
Flushes or chills, shiverings and " goose-pimx)les," 
start out on the skin, and its tension over the under- 
lying organs is changed. The muscles become more 
rigid or flabby than usual ; some of them are con- 
tracted and others relaxed. The jaws fall or become 
set ; the heart beats faster or slower, or else it flut- 
ters wildly and stands still. The character of the 



EMOTIONS, SENTIMENTS, AND DESIRES 179 

respirafcion and the condition of the glottis and dia- 
phragm change. Weeping, sobbing, sighing, " catch- 
ing breath," etc., occur. Strange internal agitations 
make themselves felt. Taken altogether, this may 
be called the " bodily resonance," or " somatic reac- 
tion," awakened by the effect of the intense feeling 
on the organs through disturbance of the brain. It 
mixes itself with the more purely ideal feeling and 
gives it a coarsened and more strictly " emotional 
character." 

There is an indefinite variety to these bodily 
effects of the emotions. Each emotion has its pecul- 
iar characteristics, and yet individual persons differ 
in respect of them. Various admixtures of the emo- 
tions also take place. In anger the jaws are apt to 
be set and the teeth grind together ; creepings and 
" goose-pimples " come over the skin. The muscles 
are tense in those organs needed for offence or de- 
fence. But some are pale and some flushed when 
they are angry; and some tend to run away with 
fright or collapse with internal agitation, while 
others tend to " brace ujp " and fight (either the ob- 
ject that angers them or the passion in themselves). 
In extreme fear, again, the neck is bent, the jaws and 
cheeks relaxed, the shoulders collapse, the arms 
hang, the legs drag, the viscera quiver, the heart 
beats wildly or stops still. The feeling of these 
bodily changes intensifies the emotion itself. 

But in the case of all strong emotions a climax is 
reached, and then the storm begins to abate. What 
is called a "reaction" comes on. In their highly 



180 PRIMER OF PSYCHOLOGY 

emotional form all the feelings run, as it were, a sort of 
limited physiological career. 

Emotions and Thoughts.— It is not, of course, upon 
the bodily organs alone that all the intenser forms 
of feeling make themselves felt. Nothing in our ex- 
perience is any plainer than the fact that the 
thoughts are *' disturbed " by the emotions. In men 
of strong character and great self-control, a large 
amount of feeling may seem to quicken and im- 
IDrove their thinking powers. They are " at their 
best " when they are strongly moved by love, or 
anger, or even by grief and fear. But the effect of 
much emotional disturbance upon the thoughts, in 
most cases, leads in either one of two unfavorable 
directions. Either the mental images and acts of 
judgment and reasoning are thrown into a sort of 
wild confusion, rendered " hurly-burly," as it were ; or 
else they are made stagnant with a kind of paralysis. 

This " uiDsetting " of the mental train, this disturb- 
ance of the powers of thought and reasoning, like 
the bodily changes which accompany it, is itself 
felt as a profound modification of the original feeling. 
Almost all know what the feeling is which is so sig- 
nificantly called " losing one's self." Similar condi- 
tions of mind may be produced by certain drugs ; 
they also belong to certain forms of insanity. Some 
insane persons are almost habitually in the emotional 
state which belongs to the feeling of a wild confu- 
sion of the thoughts ; others suffer from the constant 
depressing feeling of a "drag" and impotency in 
the mental train. 



EMOTIONS, SENTIMENTS, AND DESIRES 181 

Complexity of the Emotions.— All these forms of 
feeling — themselves more or less complex— may still 
further combine or follow each other in a great 
variety of ways. It has long been noticed, and has 
been told in many forms of literature, how apt the 
mind is to pass suddenly from one extreme to 
another. This involves a further extension of the 
principle which we have already seen (p. 64f.) to con- 
trol the succession of pleasures and pains. Not in- 
frequently the most passionate and devoted love 
follows in reaction upon the most extreme distaste. 
And few remarks are more common than those which 
emphasize the proverb — "Love me little, love me 
long." 

So also the seemingly opposite emotions may be 
almost inextricably mixed in the same experience of 
the soul. Thus Plato describes the " extraordinary 
state " of mind in which the disciples of Socrates 
were when they were watching him dying, as " an 
unaccustomed mixture of delight and sorrow." So 
sometimes, as we say, we do not know whether we 
are most grieved or most glad. The modifying effect 
of one emotion upon the next succeeding is also a 
matter of great importance. A certain abruptness of 
change increases the intensity of the emotions. So 
that griefs which come unexpectedly " upon the top 
of " joys or of quiet contentment are more than ordi- 
narily poignant; and no joys are quite like those 
which bring relief to preceding griefs. 

Passions and Emotions. — These two words are pop- 
ularly employed without any very clear and fixed 



182 PRIMER OF PSYCHOLOGY 

distinction between them. Thus the same state of 
feeling- might be spoken of as either the " emotion " 
or the "passion" of anger, the "emotion" or the 
" passion " of jealousy, etc. A very important dis- 
tinction between the two is, however, possible and 
oug-ht to be observed. Emotions which have hecome 
habitual hy frequent repetition and are *'' hacked up " hy 
determined will are more propei'ly called passions. And 
this leads a modern writer to say, " Repetition has a 
different effect upon emotion and upon passion ; it 
weakens the one and feeds the other." In this use 
of the words, emotions are the more violent, tempo- 
rary, and sudden ; they escape control and rage of 
themselves, if they become very intense. Passions 
are more concealed and constant ; they are taken up 
and adopted more by the voluntary man. The one 
is like a storm of thunder and lightning ; the other 
is the intense and steady heat of tropical summer. 
Women are more emotional than men, but men are 
more passionate than women. Strong emotions are 
sources of weakness; but strong passions may be 
sources of strength. 

Nature of the Sentiments — The forms of developed 
feeling which are called sentiments differ from the 
emotions largely in not having what the latter have. 
They lack the intensity and the strong bodily tinge 
(the " somatic reaction ") of the emotions. They are 
more ideal and spiritual, we might say. They are 
" fuller of ideas ; " and some of them are found to be 
complex forms of feeling that arise only in the pres- 
ence of " ideals," or constructions of imagination 



EMOTIONS, SENTIMENTS, AND DESIKES 183 

and thought which the mind holds up to itself as 
types or patterns of what is not, but ought to be. 

Yet here again the distinction between the emo- 
tions and the sentiments is not fixed and immovable. 
Even the artistic and the religious feelings may be- 
come so intense and may so stir up in characteristic 
ways the organs of the body as to become, more 
properly called, emotions or passions. Some stu- 
dents of nature or of the human mind follow their 
pursuits with a high degree of mental and bodily 
disturbance, amounting to an emotional phase of 
feeling. Moreover, traces of the influence upon feel- 
ing itself from the resulting condition of the bodily 
organs are to be noticed in almost all of the most re- 
fined sentiments. Indeed, this fact accords with the 
very nature of feeling. We shall see how true this 
is when we consider, for example, the sentiment for 
the sublime or the sentiment of moral obligation 
which corresponds to the words, "I ought," or "I 
ought not." 

Classes of Sentiments. — These forms of complex 
feeling, like all others, do not admit of direct classi- 
fication. Indirectly, however, and by considering 
the conditions of their occurrence, or the intellectual 
processes which accompany them, or the kinds of 
objects which excite them, they may be divided so 
as to be treated in a convenient way. Thus three 
main classes of " sentiments " may be recognized, 
namely : (1) the intellectual ; (2) the sesthetical ; and 
(3) the ethical and religious. 

The Intellectual Sentiments All the processes of 



184 PRIMER OF PSYCHOLOGY 

perception, memory, imagination, and thinking have 
their peculiar forms of feeling connected with them 
either as excitants or accompaniments. These " in- 
tellectual sentiments " may themselves, therefore, be 
somewhat roughly divided into two classes. They 
are such as either serve to give impulse and guid- 
ance to the intellectual activities ; or else they sim- 
ply accompany them as feelings of the intellectual 
activities. 

Among those of the first class is the sentiment of 
intellectual curiosity, which, when it is regarded as 
a motive for doing something, becomes a desire of 
knowledge " for its own sake," as men are accus- 
tomed to say. This sentiment originates in that 
almost merely animal restlessness to which reference 
has already been made (p. 178). As imagination op- 
erates upon the field of knowledge, it forms an at- 
tractive picture of the nobility and the advantages 
of merely knowing ; and this picture may be personi- 
fied, and even worshipped, as a kind of goddess 
called *' Science," with a morbid and sentimental de- 
votion. 

In considering the intellectual sentiments of the 
second class, it should be borne in mind that we 
actually feel the movements of our own intellect- 
ual life, in a variety of forms of feeling which cor- 
responds to the actual variety of these movements. 
For example, the consciousness of similarity, with 
its pleased sentiment of recognition, differs from 
the feeling of the slight or intense shock of surprise 
which goes with the consciousness of difference. 



EMOTIONS, SENTIMENTS, AND DESIRES 185 

One feels amazed as well as gratified when one 
apprehends important new truths. In trying to 
remember, one feels puzzled ; not quite satisfied un- 
less the remembrance seems absolutely correct, and 
relieved and gratified when the act of memory seems 
complete. Indeed, this latter form of feeling is often 
more of a guide to memory than is judgment or 
reasoning. Above all in importance is the senti- 
ment of fitness, or approbation, with which "the 
truth" is greeted by a sound and honest mind. 
And, indeed, it is probably feeling, far inore and far 
oftener, than any strict logical conclusiveness in our 
reasonings that settles for the time heing ivhat the truth 
shall he held to he. 

It could even be shown that, in all probability, 
every important relation recognized by the intellect 
and put into language has its appropriate senti- 
ment. Thus there is a feeling, as well as a thought, 
that goes with all the prepositions, such as " upon," 
" over," " into," etc. Especially do many of the con- 
junctions serve to mark peculiar changes in feeling as 
well as transitions in thought. We all agree with the 
character in Shakespeare, who did not like " But yet." 

The -ffisthetical Sentiments. — When one is looking 
at certain objects in nature or in an art gallery, 
when one is hearing certain successions of sounds 
at a good concert, when one is reading poetry, or 
contemplating in memory or imagination a great and 
heroic deed, one experiences very peculiar feelings 
of admiration and pleased approval. Such feelings 
are called "sesthetical sentiments," or the "feel- 



186 PRIMER OF PSYCHOLOaY 

ing"" of the beautiful. The psychology of these 
forms of feeling- is an exceedingly interesting subject 
of study ; but it has thus far been pursued with 
only a partial success. Several points may, how- 
ever, be considered as established. 

The sesthetical sentiments are forms of agreeable 
or disagreeable feeling, as indeed almost (if not 
quite) all of our sentiments are. But they do not ap- 
pear to be merely agreeable and disagreeable feelings. 
That is, the satisfaction is not simply sensuous or 
simply intellectual, as is the satisfaction which is 
taken in a well-cooked dish or in a sound argument. 
But aesthetical sentiment may mix in with sensuous 
feelings ; as in the case of the traveller who, on 
drinking cool, fresh milk in the Pyrenees, " experi- 
enced a series of feelings which the word agreeable is 
insufficient to designate." Or, again, as in the case 
of one of the author's pupils, who testified that the 
study of Kant's " Critique of Pure Eeason " gave him 
the highest sesthetical enjoyment. There is no way, 
of course, to prove such statements as these but to 
appeal to the consciousness of those who make them. 
And it will be forever useless for small-minded psy- 
chologists, with their petty theories of evolution, to 
try to make the world's artists and admirers of art 
think that they do not know themselves well enough 
to understand the difference between genuine ms- 
thetical sentiments and merely agreeable feelings. 

Kinds of the Beautiful — There are various ways of 
dividing up the kinds of beautiful objects, and of 
classifying the arts. But the division in which psy- 



EMOTIONS, SENTIMENTS, AND DESIRES 187 

chology is interested is based upon the differences 
in our conscious states when we are contemplating- 
the different sorts of objects which we call " beauti- 
ful." Here, of course, the word heautifid is used with 
a very general significance. For example, one form 
of the beautiful is the sublime or the grand. A cer- 
tain largeness or swelling of feeling is characteristic 
of our mental attitude before the sublime. This char- 
acteristic extends even to the physiological basis of 
the feeling. One tends to lift up the head, to stretch 
one's self in stature, to expand the lungs by deep 
breathing, when one is contemplating the sublime. 
The intellectual activities are loose and expansive, 
rather than marked by fixed attention and careful 
mastery of minute details. Imagination, taking its 
point of starting from the object, ranges abroad, 
magnifies known excellences, and even reaches 
out toward the incomprehensible and the infinite. 
Feelings of awe and reverence, that seem to have a 
kind of moral and religious quality, are aroused. 
Somewhat thus does the sensitive soul feel the sub- 
limity of a storm at sea (when all personal fear and 
discomfort are absent), or of the clouds and light- 
ning, or the snowy peaks, seen from a mountain's 
top, or of some heroic charge in a great battle, or 
an act of religious self-sacrifice. 

But if it be the merely pretty which one is enjoy- 
ing, how different is the form of one's aesthetical 
consciousness ? Here there is little or no expansive 
physiological feeling ; attention is concentrated on 
the harmony or pleasing contrast of details ; imagi- 



188 PRTMEK OF PSYCTIOLOGY 

nation seeks little or nothing- beyond ; and there is 
almost no excitement of will either to worship or to 
achieve. So that the merely and excessively pretty 
often comes very near to exciting* feelings of half- 
contempt. The gracefid, again, is appreciated only 
as the thoughts and feelings which accompany easy 
and pleasant movement, whether of body or of mind, 
are stirred and gratified. But further remarks on this 
interesting department of psychology are not fitted 
to so elementary a work as this. 

The Ethical Sentiments.— As has just been seen, 
some of the-9esthetical sentiments are very closely 
akin to moral and religious sentiments. Especially is 
this true of the sentiments of awe and reverence, 
and of the mysterious and infinite, which those ob- 
jects excite that are called sublime. The various 
emotions — such as anger, fear, grief, joy, and sym- 
pathy — may all become moral or immoral, according 
to the degree and manner of their prevalence in the 
life of the mind. Thus natural anger may be culti- 
vated by experience and rational reflection so as to 
take the form of a holy sentiment against injustice, 
such as is rightly attributed even to God himself. 
Fear may be developed into the sentiment of rever- 
ence for what is true, beautiful, and good. To be 
false or to speak lies becomes for some men the 
most to be dreaded of all things conceivable. *' The 
fear of God," we are told, " is the beginning of wis- 
dom." Crude animal sj^mpathy is also developed in- 
to the refined sentiment of unselfish love for others, 
love of friends, love of country, love of humanity. 



EMOTIONS, SENTIMENTS, AND DESIRES 189 

There are, however, certain sentiments, or forms 
of feeling-, developed, in the course of the natural 
life of the mind, that are distinctly ethical. It is the 
possession of these which seems to make man a 
moral being-, on the side of feeling, as none of the 
lower animals are. Among these we note, first, the 
sentiment of moral ohligation, or the feeling which is 
expressed by the words " I ought," " he ought," etc. 
Begging pardon for the expression, we will call this 
the " feeling of oughtness." This is a perfectly- 
unique sentiment, is not like any other, and cannot 
be understood as a development or modification of 
any other. Its unique character is undoubted, how- 
ever the sentiment may seem to have arisen. So 
far as is known, the lower animals have no corre- 
sponding form of consciousness. Second : the seiiti- 
ment of moral approbation or disapprol)ation seems 
also to be a distinctive and unique ethical sentiment. 
The words " approve " and " disapprove " are indeed 
used with a variety of meanings. The animals — as, 
for example, a dog that has failed to retrieve or 
that has been caught stealing a bit of meat — show 
certain signs of shame for what fhey have done or 
have failed to do. A defeated foot-ball team, even 
when it has *' done its duty," may have a similar feel- 
ing of shame. But that distinctively moral feeling 
which arises when, in spite, it may be, of threatened 
pain and loss, one has done what sound judgment 
decides ought to be done, is apparently the posses- 
sion of man alone. 

Nature of Conscience. — Few words are used with 



190 PRIMER OF PSYCHOLOGY 

more indefiniteness and variety of meaning tlian the 
word " conscience." In none of its meanings, how- 
ever, can the claim to regard conscience as a special 
faculty of the mind be made good. If the word be 
employed to comprehend the judgments of men as 
to what is right and what is wrong in character or 
conduct, then conscience is certainly no special fac- 
ulty. Judgment about matters of right and wrong, 
as judgment, is precisely similar to judgment about 
all other matters. In all matters men take sonre of 
their judgments from others, quite unthinkingly; 
other judgments they make up after more or less re- 
flection ; still others they grasp at, as it were, in a 
way to hit right, perhaps, but so that they cannot 
justify to reason the conclusion, either before their 
own intellect or the intellect of other men. In all 
matters judgment springs very largely out of blind 
feeling. 

It has already been seen that most of the so-called 
ethical sentiments (conscience as feeling) are not 
originally ethical, in the stricter sense of the word. 
But two forms at least— the feeling of moral obliga- 
tion and the feeling of moral approbation — are dis- 
tinctive and unique. How these feelings come to be 
attached to certain particular forms of conduct, how 
it is that you feel that " you ought," and I feel that 
" I ought," in such very different ways, is a matter 
of education, personal history, etc. But both you 
and I and all men agree in having certain distinc- 
tively human and moral sentiments aroused; we 
agree also in having these sentiments so largely at- 



EMOTIONS, SENTIMENTS, AND DESIRES 191 

tached to the same courses of conduct or to the same 
deeds, because there is so much in common, not only 
in human nature, but also in the circumstances and 
teachings under which it was developed. 

Hence it comes about that from the point of view 
of individual consciousness, the " ought-feeling " and the 
feeling of moral approbation are generally attached, 
luithout any conscious process of reasoning, to a so- 
called moral judgment ; hut in making up the judg- 
ment any amount of reasoning is admissible, for it is a 
matter of evidence more or less. 

Nature of the Desires. — Those states of conscious- 
ness which we have called " the desires " lie nearer 
to the will than do the emotions and sentiments, con- 
sidered merely as such. Indeed, in order to under- 
stand the origin and nature of the desires, it is 
necessary to take our point of starting chiefly from 
"the impulses." Here we may begin by noticing 
that the various forms of natural emotion have their 
characteristic impulses toward certain forms of 
movement. For example, the impulse of the angry 
child is to strike or kick ; or to bite some object ; or, 
in case fear restrains from this, to beat his heels or 
his head on the floor. The impulse of love is to 
fondle, to defend, to embrace. Feelings like those 
of curiosity, expectation, and doubt also act as im- 
pulses. The impulse of the curious mind is to 
look " pryingly," and that of the doubtful mind to 
look " suspiciously." But plainly each of these im- 
pulses involves acts of will, the doing of something 
that has its end in the gratification or relief of feeling. 



192 PRIMER OF PSYCHOLOGY 

Genuine desires, however, as distinguished from 
impulses, require a considerable development of in- 
tellect, an acquirement of experience as to the re- 
sults of what is done and of the ways to reach the 
ends toward which feeling- impels the mind. Some 
end of which we have a mental picture, and about the 
effects of which upon our well-being- we have knowl- 
edg-e acquired in the past, must be the object of de- 
sire. Desires, therefore, involve the development and 
use of all the faculties of mind in a rather compli- 
cated way. It is the stress of feeling ready to hreak 
over — as it were — into a definite act of will toward 
some particular end., which is the peculiar character- 
istic of the desires. 

Kinds of Desires — It is as difficult to classify the 
desires satisfactorily as it is to classify the senti- 
ments. For purposes of convenience, however, four 
classes of desires may be distinguished : (1) Sen- 
suous, or those which arise out of bodily cravings, 
and find their satisfaction in the possession and use 
of some object ; (2) Intellectual desires, or those 
cravings that arise from the mental faculties and 
find their satisfaction in mental exercises, or states, 
regarded as objects or ends to be gained ; (3) Sen- 
timental desires, or those which arise in the con- 
templation of some form of the beautiful or of the 
morally good in conduct and character ; and (4) 
Pathological, where things which seem repulsive, 
and the possession and use of which are painful to 
the person himself, are still desired in a sort of dis- 
eased and irrational way. 



EMOTIONS, SENTIMENTS, AND DESIRES 193 

It has already been noticed that desires, as com- 
pared with all other states of consciousness, stand 
closest to the act of will. It is usually only a step 
from " I want very badly " to " I will have." " I 
want ; " "I will to have ; " "I strive to get ; " — these 
follow each other in this order, unless "self-con- 
trol " intervenes. It is to the nature of willing, then, 
as to the highest and most complex activity of mind, 
that attention is now directed. 
13 



CHAPTEK Xn 

WILL AND CHAEACTER 

It has been seen (p. 14f.) that all states of con- 
sciousness may be regarded as having an active side 
or aspect ; that one must consider one's self~ as 
always doing something, as well as thinking about 
somewhat and feeling somehow. This active aspect 
of the self, this always doing something which we 
detect in all our conscious states, needs a name for 
it as a most general form of mental life. To " will," 
in any proper sense of the word, involves all the facul- 
ties of intellect and of feeling ; willing and choos- 
ing are, therefore, terms too complex to signify the 
most simple and elementary form of active experi- 
ence. The word conation has been suggested for this 
purpose, and has been employed by several writers 
on psychology. 

Nature of Conation. — Inquiry into the characteris- 
tics of this fundamental aspect of all mental life, 
for which the word " conation " has just been se- 
lected, reveals little or nothing to be said. We can- 
not define what it is to be active or to do ; for there 
are no simpler terms than these same words — " to 
be active" and "to do " — by which to describe such 
experience. This is not especially strange ; for it is 
equally true that one cannot define what it is to 



WILL AND CHARACTER 195 

have a sensation, or what it is to feel, whether a 
pleasure or a pain, etc. It is possible, however, to 
describe in some sort the different kinds of sensa- 
tion and the different kinds of feeling. But there 
seems to be only one kind of conation. A great va- 
riety of effects in the way of bodily movements and of 
different directions given to the mental train follows, 
indeed, from the different acts of conation. But the 
character of all conation, as such, seems to be alike. 

Two classes of effects, however, are uniformly con- 
nected with conation considered as the very simplest 
and most elementary mental activity. These are (1) 
movements of the bodily members, so far as our 
mental doing affects them directly ; and (2) the de- 
termination of the direction and amount of attention 
— the fixing and distribution of mental energy in 
the so-called field of consciousness (compare p. 23f.). 
Thus it is that when we conceive of ourselves as 
" doing something," it is always either in the way 
of moving some of the bodily members so as to ac- 
complish a certain end, or else in the way of volun- 
tarily controlling the ideas, thoughts, feelings, and 
other forms of mental life. These two classes of 
effects are connected with the phenomena of choos- 
ing, iDlanning, and all the higher forms of the mani- 
festation of will. 

In general it may be said that all mental life mani- 
fests itself to the subject of that life as being, in one of its 
fundamental aspects, its oion spontaneous activity. 

Conditions of Conation.— The physiological condi- 
tions of that self-doing, or active aspect of mental 



196 PRIMER OF PSYCHOLOGY 

life, wliich lias been called conation, are very ob- 
scure. So far as they can be discovered, they be- 
long to what has been called the " antomatism " of 
the central nervous system. Every minute animal, 
like an amoeba, for example, exhibits this peculiar 
power ; some of the changes of form or position 
which it goes through seem to originate from within 
rather than from any kind of external stimulation 
which can be detected. Thus, if one watches an 
amoeba under the microscoiDC, one may sometimes 
see it pushing out its border here and drawing it in 
there, for reasons that seem to have nothing to do 
with the action upon its surfaces of the fluid in 
which it is placed. 

As the complexity of the animal structure in- 
creases, the central organs of the nervous system 
take on themselves, to the highest degree, this 
power of " automatic " (or seemingly self -originat- 
ing) action. In man's case it is the brain, and espe- 
cially the higher regions of the brain, that rule over 
the lower organs, in part by the possession of this 
power. If we sever the spinal cord of a frog from its 
brain, then the cord alone will move the limbs in vari- 
ous purposeful ways under the action of the electri- 
cal current. If some of the lower parts of the brain 
are also left attached to the cord, then this piece of 
nervous mechanism will jump ; it will also croak, 
when stroked, with the regularity of a music-box. 
But the full-brained frog will only leap or croak, if 
it wills ; it cannot be depended upon for the same 
kind of regularity as the brainless frog. 



WILL AND CHARACTER 197 

Kinds of Movement. — In understanding the origin 
of the various movements of the body and its mem- 
bers, one iDrinciple is of chief importance. Every 
hind of excitement in the brain — lokether connected with 
sensations, emotions^ or ideas — te7ids to "overjlotv"' the 
centres and areas in which it originates, a7id tofloio down 
the nerve-tracts to the tmiscles and other connected or- 
gans ; and thus to set in movement the different connected 
parts of the external motor apparatus. 

Under this one general principle a variety of kinds 
of movement arise, which, so far as they originate 
in conscious states, may be divided as follows : (1) 
Random movements, such as new-born infants make, 
and which seem to originate chiefly in " conation " 
as a blind action of will, without any conscious end 
to be reached. In this way infants are constantly 
striking and kicking, with a perfect indifference as 
to what — even their own sensitive parts — they hit in 
their blind efforts. (2) Sensory-motor movements are 
those which arise chiefly in the excitement of some 
form of sensation. Thus every smell naturally stirs 
us up to sniff in the air, every taste provokes the 
tongue to motion ; and a moving object or bright 
light, in any direction, causes an almost irresistible 
tendency to turn the head. (3) ^sthetico -motor is a 
term that might be used for those movements which 
originate chiefly in the feelings as having a tone of 
pleasure or of pain. But (4) various impulsive and 
instinctive movements arise which involve a low 
amount, at least, of feeling and of the idea of some 
end to be reached, but which are not of a strictly vol- 



198 PRIMER OF PSYCHOLOGY 

untary or thoughtful character. Where these be- 
long to the human species, and are developed upon 
a basis of inherited characteristics, and tend to pre- 
serve the life and the interests of the species, they 
may be called " instinctive." 

(5) T^/eo-mo^o/' movements are those that are excited 
by ideas arising in consciousness. In all our waking- 
states, if the idea of doing anything in particular is 
suggested to the mind, unless some check is fur- 
nished, the tendency at once arises to carry the idea 
out in the appropriate form of movement. Thus in 
various sports, or other complicated forms of mus- 
cular activity, in connection with trained habits of 
bodily movement, every idea is quickly folloAved by 
some corresponding deed. Very interesting also are 
(6) the imitative movements which occur so early in 
the life of the infant. One observer, for example, 
tells how a child of only fifteen weeks old was seen 
trying to " purse up " his lips Avhen this was done by 
some one else " close in front of him." And, finally, 
there are (7) voluntary movements, where we, with a 
fuller consciousness of what we wish to do, will that 
the movements shall occur (sometimes after no lit- 
tle deliberation, and sometimes in spite of certain 
strong considerations to the contrary, and with much 
feeling of effort). 

It should be borne in mind, however, that all these 
various kinds of movement are, as a matter of fact, 
more or less mingled together. Perfectly " pure " 
cases of either kind occur only, for the most part, in 
early life. For example, the same imitative move- 



WILL AND CHAEACTER 199 

ments which are seen in infants, when performed by 
adults, are apt also to have behind them much of 
sympathetic ideas and feelings to account, in part, 
for their origin. 

Nature of Volition. — Those so-called " blind acts of 
will," or " mere conations," which account for many 
of the movements already described, become more 
and more displaced by acts of will that show intelli- 
gence and foresight. Such an act of will may then 
be called a "volition." A volition thus implies a 
certain development of will, and not of will alone (as 
though this were possible), but of all the connected 
conscious iDOwers of the mind. It may be defined as 
a definite conation (or conscious doing) directed 
toward realizing some end that is pictured before 
the mind, preceded or accompanied by a condition 
of desire, and usually accompanied or followed by a 
feeling of effort. 

All the different elements which enter into a voli- 
tion may vary somewhat indefinitely. For example, 
the mental picture of the end to be willed may be 
more or less definite ; and it may itself be held by 
an act of will for a longer or shorter time before the 
mind. More or less clearly, however, every volition is 
an act of will ichich knows what it wants. The period 
and the stress of desire may also vary greatly in dif- 
ferent volitions. Sometimes one wills a certain thing 
very coolly, and sometimes as springing from very 
warm wishes or intense wants. 

Nature of Deliberation One very peculiar and in- 
teresting feature varies greatly with different acts of 



200 PKIMEE OF PSYCHOLOGY 

will. This is the amount of what is called " delib- 
eration." But deliberation is itself a mixture of 
intellect and will. For when one deliberates, one 
thinks over the consequences which past experience 
teaches are likely to follow from one's action ; and 
meantime one holds the decision in suspense, as it 
were. This very "holding in suspense" is itself, 
however, a volition ; or, rather, it is often a series of 
volitions that all have what is sometimes called an 
" inhibitory " character. Different persons habitually 
differ to no small degree in respect to the amount of 
deliberation which precedes their volitions. Hence 
we hear of reckless will, hasty will, excited will, cool 
will, reluctant will, etc. Hence, also, the will to delib- 
erate is itself a very important and influential form 
of will. Strong and reasonable will depends large- 
ly upon the character and issue of the deliberation 
which precedes the decision. Weakness of will may 
consist in " getting stuck fast " in one's feelings and 
emotions, and so deliberating indefinitely without 
any power to decide " for one's sell" In this con- 
nection, too, it may be noted that the will determines 
the ideas, feelings, and desires just as truly as they in- 
fluence the loill. 

Resolution of Deliberation. — The period of so-called 
deliberation must, of course, at some time come to 
an end. Its issue may be reached in any one of 
several different ways. Sometimes the volition 
seems to be the mere result of exhaustion ; we feel 
that we cannot keejD on deliberating any longer — 
we must do something, and the volition takes the 



WILL AND CHARACTER 201 

line of least resistance at that very moment. We 
will to "let g-o," to "yield up," to "cease to try" 
finding out by deliberation what it is best to will. 
Sometimes, on the contrary, all our powers seem 
suddenly to rally and to break over the barriers ; 
then all at once we find, to our relief and joy, that 
we have already willed what only a short time ago 
seemed so impossible to us. 

Faculties Employed in Will. — Much confusion has 
been introduced into psychology by speaking as 
though "the will" were a sort of separate faculty 
that could be considered apart from the rest of men- 
tal life. On the contrary, some have insisted that 
it should be regarded as merely the expression of 
the stronger sensations, feelings, or desires. These 
states have been regarded as " inotives'' Avhich, by a 
sort of strength inherent in them and independent 
of our control, determine the will. Still other writers 
have seemed to hold that the will can be raised to 
a sort of god-like independence of all the other fac- 
ulties, and so can bend them to itself. The fact is 
that what is ordinarily called " willing " is an exceed- 
ingly complex affair, and involves no little develop- 
ment of all the faculties of the mind. In the higher 
sense of the words "to will," no one can will with- 
out employing intellect, memory, imagination, and 
thought — without setting before the conscious Self 
the particular end to be willed, or without the feeling 
being aroused to some extent in view of this pictured 
end. But it does not follow from this that what we 
indicate by " I will " is not a unique sort of thing in 



202 PRIMER OF PSYCHOLOGY 

the conscious life. On the contrary, it is plainly a 
different kind of phenomenon in consciousness from 
what is indicated by any terms which apply to the 
merely intellectual and emotional life. W/iat we loill 
is not only dependent upon what we think and vahat we 
wish, hut also what v^e think on what we wish and ivill. 
And that willing determines largely our feelings and 
desires has already been said. 

Nature of Choice.— The highest expression oi^will 
is reached when a choice is made. In order that all 
the mental factors which enter into a " mature" choice 
may be understood, it is necessary to separate in 
thought what is often very closely "huddled to- 
gether " in the actual life of the mind. In such a 
choice the following factors may be recognized : 
There is (1) the mental representation, or picturing 
before the mind, of two or more ends which are re- 
garded as dependent upon our action, and, generally, 
also of the means which will be necessary to realize 
these ends. (2) This is accompanied by some excite- 
ment of the feelings — the emotions, sentiments, and 
desires — as the " good " of these ends is considered 
by the mind. And since such processes of mental 
representation and feeling cannot all occur together 
in the conscious life, there is (3) deliberation, which 
involves some estimating of the relative value of the 
two or more ends, of the risks and pains or pleasures 
connected with their attainment ; and perhaps a sort 
of conflict of desires. Then, somehow, there follows 
(4) decision, or that adoption of an end as mine which 
corresponds to the words ''Zwill." And, finally, in 



WILL AND CHARACTER 203 

case something" is to be done about it, there is the 
" letting go," or the " gripping on " of attention, to 
move the muscular apparatus and to conduct the 
train of thoughts and ideas. It is, however, in No. 4, 
in decision, or the " cutting slioH " of the process of delib- 
eration hy adoption of one of the several ends to he 
" mine,'' that the will expresses itself as the faculty dis- 
tinctive in all making of choices. 

Formation of Plans and Purposes. — Properly speak- 
ing, every volition, and especially every choice, is 
planf al or purposeful. Suppose, for example, that 
the pitcher of a base-ball wills to pitch it with the 
only one curve which he can make effective ; or he 
chooses, of two or three of his curves, the particular 
one which he thinks hardest for that particular bat- 
ter to hit. He accordingly uses his eyes and his 
muscles in a planful way — in a manner that is to 
carry out the purpose he has formed. His choice is 
the adoption of a plan. The same thing is true 
when I take a peach instead of an apple, to eat, from 
a plate of fruit ; or when I make up my mind to walk 
down street rather than to run for the street-car to 
the next corner. 

Indeed, all our waking life we are constantly 
forming and executing — generally with a fair meas- 
ure of success— a series of plans. The only thing 
for us, if we do not do this, is to " go it wild," and 
get no benefit from past experience. Indeed, it 
might with much truth be said that one cannot 
avoid acting in a planful way ; for many of these 
plans are bedded into the nervous and muscular 



204 PRIMER OF PSYCHOLOGY 

organism and into all the habits of thought and 
feeling ; so that it would be far more trouble to 
avoid following them than to adopt them. 

Execution of Plans and Purposes. — Different plans 
differ in the relations which they sustain to the will, 
with respect to their being " carried out," almost 
immeasurably. Some of them, as has just been in- 
dicated, are no sooner framed than they proceed to 
carry themselves out in an almost purely impul- 
sive way ; or by laying hold, as it were, on past hab- 
its of conduct. Thus it would be with a savage's 
plan to hit a particular one of the enemy with 
his poisoned arrow. Others have to be "backed 
up " through days and even years of waiting and 
working by continually repeated action of the 
will. Such are the plans, more or less intelligently 
adopted, which steady life and give it some sort of 
unity and dignity ; without which, indeed, life is 
carried and driven in contradictory directions by im- 
pulse and caprice, and so is made more animal than 
really human. Without such plans, no matter how 
choice and refined some of the sentiments may seem 
to be, there is no best living possible, and no really 
worthy character to be attained. Here again we see 
how will enters into all our experience ; instead of 
being merely the dependent result of the emotions, 
sentiments, and desires, it rather also shapes and 
gives character to the emotions, sentiments, and de- 
sires. To have some relatively low and unworthy 
plan in living is, indeed, better than to have all our 
consciousness and conduct ruled by impulse and ca- 



WILL AND CHARACTEK 205 

price. There is always a certain dignity belonging 
to one who can declare, with a character of Brown- 
ing's : 

" I have subdued my life to the one purpose 
Whereto I ordained it ; " 

or, again : 

" I have made my life consist of one idea." 

Freedom of Will. — It by no means belongs to the 
science of psychology thoroughly to discuss the 
question whether the will is free or not. The thor- 
ough discussion of this question belongs to philos- 
ophy, and is connected with a number of the most 
abstruse philosophical problems. But without doubt 
the whole problem of " free will " arises in certain 
conscious states, which psychology must take ac- 
count of, since this science describes and, as far as 
possible, explains all states of consciousness, as 
such. 

Certain peculiar states, when looked at from the 
point of view of the " / will " that is in them, may 
be called the " consciousness of freedom." In such 
states the following particulars are to be noticed : 
(1) In willing, in the highest form of deliberate 
choice or planning, the consciousness of self-activity 
is most pronounced. Such deeds of will I regard as, 
in a peculiar sense of the words, " my own." I can, 
in some sort, deny or reject my emotions and de- 
sires as having surprised and overcome me ; the 
stronger they are, the more passive /appear before 
them. So, too, the clearer and more complete my 



206 PRIMER OF PSYCHOLOGY 

ideas and thoughts become, the more do they seem 
to have the character which fits them to be consid- 
ered as thoughts necessary to others also. But it 
is /, and / alone, that will ; and on my deliberate 
choices and plans my Self stamps itself with a pe- 
culiar signature. 

(2) That consciousness which is fitly expressed 
by such words as " I can " accompanies all genuine 
deeds of will, in their highest form. When I stand 
before the choice and contemplate it as about^to be 
made, my conviction Avith reference to it is irresist- 
ible: '' I know I cany And when I stand and look 
behind upon the choice as already made, and feel 
moral approbation or moral shame, I have the con- 
viction *'I could have not," although I did ; or "I 
could have," although I did not. The conviction of 
ability, or power in choosing is a part of the " con- 
sciousness of freedom ; " and about its existence and 
immense significance there can be no manner of 
doubt. (3) The two preceding phases of conscious- 
ness may go with every form of mental life. Thus 
I T[idi.j freely remember, freely imagine, freely think, 
freely feel either joy or suffering, love or hate, and 
every form of sentiment from bodily fear to rever- 
ence for God. For, to a certain extent. Will may 
enter into them all and make them my ovm — mani- 
festations of my power of self-control. In con- 
nection with such conscious states arise (4) the 
thought and feeling of '' imputability " or " respon- 
sibility." And here the ethical sentiments, to which 
reference has already been made, come strongly 



WILL AT^D CHARACTER 207 

into play. Since I " impute " the deed of will to 
myself, feel that 7, and I only, am " responsible " for 
it, my moral self - approbation or disapprobation 
seems to me " reasonable ; " whereas, otherwise, it 
would not. 

It is interesting" to notice that all attempts, made 
by those who deny the freedom of the will, to break 
the force of these undoubted facts of consciousness, 
really have no meaning themselves unless we admit 
the force of the facts. It is sometimes argued as 
though ignorance of the motives which determine 
the will were the source of the conviction, " I can," 
or " I could." But, on the contrary, no arg'ument 
would ever arise as to Jiovj this conviction were 
caused, were it not for the positive and unique char- 
acter of the conviction itself. To try to explain the 
consciousness " I can " by ignorance as to why " I 
do " is simply absurd. Dogs do not think of them- 
selves as not free ; because the whole consciousness 
out of which the conception arises of being free and 
not being- free is quite foreign to them. So, too, 
whenever we " excuse " ourselves for some form of 
conduct because of the suddenness of our emotion or 
the stress of our desires, the very excuse is meaning- 
less unless we admit the consciousness of freedom 
as something with which this experience is partly, 
or wholly, in contrast. 

The Conception of Character. — The word " character " 
is very frequently used in both a wider and also a 
narrower meaning". Sometimes it stands for the 
sum-total of all the peculiarities belonging to an in- 



208 PRIMER OF PSYCHOLOGY 

dividual, includinsf all that comes — more strictly- 
speaking — under "disposition," " temperament," etc., 
as well as the habits formed by exercise of self-con- 
trol. But, in the narrower and more precise mean- 
ing" of the word, character may be defined as being 
the self-formed habits of will. It is the " stamp " 
that we give to ourselves by habitually choosing 
and holding fast to certain ends. Of course, it is 
practically impossible to separate wholly between a 
person's "nature" or "natural disposition,"'~as Ave 
say, and the same person's " character." For from 
the very first, and more and more as the acquiring 
of experience and the development of mental life 
goes on, this natural disposition is moulded, not 
only by circumstances, but also by the way in which 
we take, seize, appropriate, and use the circumstances 
by responsive choices, plans, and, in general, deeds 
of will. All the while, then, we are both "being 
stamped," and " stamioing " ourselves ; and the stamp 
of character which results is, therefore, due to a 
ceaseless mixture of the two. 

Development of Character.— It is plainly impossible 
to live and to avoid the formation of character. As 
we shall see in the next chapter, the great ruling 
principles under which all mental life falls tend 
constantly to settle and solidify the whole. Even 
unreasoning caprice and impulse, constantly in- 
dulged in, work themselves into the structure of 
character. And so we come to use that strange and 
yet most impressive term, a " capricious character " 
— a " stamped " form of the individual mental life. 



WILL AND CHARACTER 209 

that bears the stamp of being- (contrary to the very 
conception of a " stamp ") not settled or fixed or to 
be depended upon in any particular. Yet this is 
really not inconsistent with the old Stoic conception, 
that settled character is " always to will the same 
and nil the same ; " or the other saying, that " char- 
acter is a habit of doin^, not which has the Self, but 
which the Self is'' For the develo2wient of mental 
life into some fixed and settled form of character neces- 
sarily residts from the continued existence of this life. 
We cannot live luithout acquiring character, 

14 



CHAPTEE XIII 

TEMPEEAMENT AND DEVELOPMENT 

Childken sometimes amuse themselves in the vain 
effort to find two individual things which are pre- 
cisely alike ; such as, for example, two blades of 
striped grass or two leaves of clover. But no two 
precisely similar individuals in nature are ever to be 
found. And what is true of such comparatively in- 
significant natural objects is even more true of the 
bodies of individual men. Strangers frequently have 
great difficulty in telling twins apart, and the mem- 
bers of other races are apt to seem to travellers in 
foreign countries much more nearly alike than are 
the members of their own race. But, certainly, two 
adult human bodies never existed in which careful 
observation would not reveal many differences. 
What is true of the developed human body is also 
true of the human mind. Every " stream of con- 
sciousness " runs its own course ; and the character 
of the individual states which compose the stream, 
as well as the order of their succession, differs 
from the character and order of every other. No 
two minds ever developed precisely alike. 

While all this is true, however, it is also true that 
some individuals are in mental disposition and char- 
acter much more alike than are individuals taken at 



TEMPERAMENT AND DEVELOPMENT 211 

random from the wliole community. To say the 
same thing in another way, individual minds may 
be g-rouped together into classes, so that those well 
within each class are more alike than are those be- 
longing to any two different classes. And the basis 
of the classification may be differently chosen ; it 
may be age, or sex, or what we are accustomed to 
call " temperament." 

Doctrine of Temperament By a temperament we 

understand any marhed type of mental constitution and 
development which seems due to inherited character- 
istics of the hodily organism. The doctrine of tem- 
peraments is very old indeed, very vague, in spite 
of all efforts to render it definite and scientific, and 
yet very firmly fixed, not only in the popular belief, 
but also in the opinion of competent observers. 
There are certain somewhat plainly marked types of 
minds. In the speed and sensitiveness of mental 
reaction to sensory stimulus ; in the speed and com- 
pleteness with which the ideas are reproduced, and in 
the rapidity of their combination as well as the man- 
ner in which they tend to combine ; in insight into 
situations and quickness of decision ; in various forms 
of artistic, moral, and religious susceptibility — dif- 
ferent individuals vary greatly. Such variation can- 
not all be accounted for as due to circumstances or to 
education. Some of it plainly belongs to what comes 
over from the parentage and belongs to the child at 
the beginning ; that is, some of it is hereditary. That 
part of it which is hereditary must of course depend 
upon the character of that which is actually in- 



212 PRIMER OF PSYCHOLOGY 

lierited; and tliis is tlie constitution of the bodily 
organism. 

In understanding the doctrine of temperaments, 
however, it should be remembered that perfectly 
plain and pure " types " corresponding to any par- 
ticular temperament are comparatively rare. Most 
individuals are "mixtures" of different types. It 
may also be explained that age, sex, and acquired 
character so blend with temperament as to make the 
whole matter more complicated. A " sentimeHtal " 
woman differs from a sentimental man ; a " choleric " 
child from a choleric man ; and a " phlegmatic " 
good man may scarcely seem at all like a phleg- 
matic criminal. Different races, too, while they 
comprise, each one, all the temperaments, may have 
a sort of predominating temperament belonging to 
the race. The Japanese people, for example, are un- 
doubtedly of a prevailing sentimental temperament. 

Kinds of Temperament. — Curiously enough, wit^ all 
the difference of view about temperaments, four 
kinds have been pretty generally recognized. Of 
these the three most clearly established are the san- 
guine, the choleric, and the phlegmatic. There is 
still another kind of temperament, the characteris- 
tics of which are not quite so clearly marked and for 
which different names have been chosen. We shall 
call it by the term which Lotze gave to it ; and we 
have already spoken of it as the " sentimental tem- 
perament." A largely similar type of mental consti- 
tution has sometimes been called the " melancholic 
temperament ; " but this name is less fitting. 



TEMPERAMENT AND DEVELOPMENT 213 

A man or woman of a marked sanguine tempera- 
ment is subject to lively and varied excitability and 
rapid change ; but, in general, without much depth 
or stability. This is the temperament of child- 
hood and of childish men and women. It has many 
but short-lived friendships, quick but easily disap- 
pointed hopes and other forms of emotion. The 
ideas and thoughts run and sparkle and change ; 
but are not so apt to be bedded in well-considered 
reasons or adopted by the action of a steadfast will. 
The cJioleric person may be less quick and varied in 
reactions ; but the reactions are more enduring, 
passionate, and determined, and the conduct as well 
as the states of consciousness less subject to change. 
This is the man's temperament : the one that belongs 
to strength and to middle life and to the successful 
in life's hardest battles. The phleginatic tempera- 
ment is comparatively sluggish in mental changes 
and bodily movements ; it is the opposite of lively 
and versatile, although it may be either tenacious or 
weak in respect of will. 

We have all also noticed certain persons who are 
perhaps among the most interesting, who are lively 
in imagination, susceptible to very delicate impres- 
sions of sense and to every form of feeling. But 
they are moody in feeling, indifferent to present 
practical issues, and uncertain in conduct. They 
get stuck fast in their own sentiments and cannot 
act ; or else they act impulsively, and then suffer a 
collapse of will. They have the poetic or artistic — 
the so-called sentimental— ieTd^QYO^mQini. But with- 



214 PRIMER OF PSYCHOLOGY 

out a mixture of some other form of temperament, or 
without very favorable circumstances and associa- 
tions to stimulate and support them, they seldom 
accomplish much in j)oetry or in any form of art ; 
while in practical affairs they are likely to be quite 
unsuccessful. 

Basis of Temperament. — The words used for the 
different main temperaments show what was for- 
merly thought as to the physical causes of the tem- 
peraments. Thus the " choleric " temperament was 
supposed to be due to excess of " bile," the " san- 
guine" to fulness of "blood," the "phlegmatic" to 
a large amount of " phlegm," and the " melancholic " 
to " black bile." We know now that these particular 
views are whimsical and quite without warrant, but 
we do not know what are the precise characteristics 
of the constitution of the body in which the causes 
for these differences of temperament are really to be 
found. The sensitiveness to stimulus of the different 
organs of sense, the composition of the blood, the 
character of the processes of digestion and secretion, 
etc., are probably among the principal of these bodily 
causes. 

Difference of the Sexes. — The doctrine of the dif- 
ferences which exist between males and females of 
the human species, so far as any such doctrine 
can be formed, is very similar to that of the tem- 
peraments. Here, too, it is quite impossible in 
many cases to tell how much is, strictly speaking, 
natural and unchangeable ; how much is due to so- 
cial habits and changeable products of civilization. 



TEMPEEAMENT AND DEVELOPMENT 215 

Moreover, the whole question is just now being 
discussed with such an amount of heat and preju- 
dice that the scientific spirit is difficult indeed to 
find among- the disputants. 

The physical differences of the average male and 
female, at the various ages of life, have been some- 
what carefully measured in a large number of in- 
stances. They show that the curve which indicates 
the growth of the two differs, and that the relative 
proportion of the different members of the body is 
not the same. The length of the arms and legs, for 
example, in the male is greater ; the centre of gravity 
is higher, the step is longer. In the nervous and 
muscular systems there are even more marked .dif- 
ferences. The average weight of the brain of the 
adult male is to that of the female as about 1.424 
to 1.272. There appears also to be a difference in 
the very earliest development of the convolutions 
of the cerebral hemispheres, and of the balance of 
the parts — the growth of the male's brain in front of 
the central fissure being proiDortionately greater. 
The pulse of the female is quicker ; the blood is less 
in quantity, of lighter specific gravity, and contains 
fewer red corpuscles. She is more inclined to spas- 
modic and cramping action of the muscles, to sud- 
den and incalculable secretions, to wide-spreading 
and somewhat chaotic excitements of the nervous 
system. 

There is just as little doubt that mental — and more 
particularly emotional — differences correspond to the 
physical differences which have just been pointed 



216 PRIMER OF PSYCHOLOGY 

out. This may almost be said to follow as a matter 
of course when we consider that the muscles are the 
organ of will ; that the bodily feelings enter so 
largely into our very consciousness of Self ; that 
discrimination, judgment, and all the more elaborate 
processes of thought are so inevitably influenced by 
the emotions and practical activities ; and that the 
points of view and the feelings peculiar to sex enter 
into and influence the entire social and even the 
moral and religious life. 

Effect of Age and Race.— It has already been said 
(p. 214), that the influence of temperament is modi- 
fied by the age of the individual and that, conversely, 
each age has a sort of temperament peculiar to it. 
Thus the sanguine and sentimental temperaments 
belong to childhood and youth, the choleric to 
middle life — especially to manhood — and the phleg- 
matic to old age. In the development of mental life, 
the acquirement of a use of the senses, and of the 
knowledge which comes more immediately through 
them, is first in order. But these, as there has been 
abundant reason to recognize (comiDare pp. 142ff.), 
involve a certain amount of discrimination, of judg- 
ment, and even of making quick and almost instinct- 
ive inferences. Certain primary forms of feeling also 
accompany the earliest use of the senses and of the 
intellect in gaining an acquaintance with the infant's 
own body and with surrounding things. Meanwhile, 
will is being constantly aroused and developed in the 
direction of attention for the control of the muscular 
apparatus and of the " field of consciousness." 



TEMPERAMENT AND DEVELOPMENT 217 

It is highly probable that the start and first 
growth of human mental life, as a matter of sen- 
sations chiefly, come before the birth of the infant. 
Sensations of pressure, of motion, and of tempera- 
ture may very likely arise at this period. AVith in- 
fants born prematurely there is evidence to show 
that they taste sugar or quinine when it is put into 
the' mouth, and that certain odors produce agreeable 
or disagreeable sensations. All newly born children 
are deaf, because of a mass of tissue which fills the 
middle ear. The eyes of the infant very early begin 
to move in an associated and coordinated way ; al- 
though probably not until several days after birth, 
in most cases. The skin has at first little or no per- 
ceptive power, and the muscles are undeveloped ; 
but the brain and the organs of sense ajppear to be 
far in advance of the mental development which 
would seem to be needed to correspond. 

The psychology of the different races of men (" eth- 
nic psychology ") is an exceedingly interesting field 
of research. It will have, hoAvever, to be cultivated 
more by trained psychologists rather than by mere 
biologists, in order to yield any fruits of much value. 
On the other hand, the student already familiar with 
general psychology, as studied in the modern 
method, finds in the examination of the conscious- 
ness of men of different races a large amount of 
illustrative material that is instructive. What is 
called " anthropology," as studied without this care- 
ful preparation of acquaintance with modern scien- 
tific psychology, is of little value in throwing light 



218 PRIMEIl OF PSYCHOLOGY 

on the real development of man's mental life. It is 
rather a miscellaneous collection of statistics and 
antiquarian relics, from which few or no principles 
can safely be derived. 

General Principles of Mental Life. — We certainly 
cannot talk of known " laws " controlling the action 
and life of the mind, as the " law of gravity " con- 
trols the behavior of masses of matter toward each 
other in space, or the " law of equivalency " controls 
the chemical union of the atoms of the different 
material elements known to modern chemistry. All 
pretence of such knowledge in psychology is mere 
pretence; and if 52icA knowledge is necessary, in order 
to a " science " of the mental life, then no science 
of psychology exists. For ourselves, we are quite 
willing to go further, and to affirm that no such laws 
will ever be discovered ; and that no science of mind 
comparable to mathematical astronomy or to mathe- 
matical chemistry will ever exist. This we believe 
to be true for the very good reason that we cannot 
speak correctly of " laws controlling " in the realm 
of mind with the same meaning which we are war- 
ranted in applying to the term when speaking of 
material masses and atoms. The discussion of this 
question, however, would take us quite beyond our 
present purpose, over into the fields of philosophy. 

Certain general principles of all mental life may, 
however, be announced in the sense th^t all the ac- 
tion and growth of the so-called faculties suggests 
and confirms generalizations which have to do with 
all men — vague types of behavior, to which the 



TEMPERAMENT AND DEVELOPMENT 219 

mental life of every individual conforms, because it 
is indeed a human mental life. If it were our in- 
tention to enter upon this subject thoroughly, it 
would be necessary to point out what these uni- 
versal forms of behavior are, and how they may be 
recog-nized and proved as actually belonging- to the 
life of the mind. And here the question might be 
discussed: what is meant by saying, for example, 
that all things exist in " space " and in " time ; " but 
that space is not to be affirmed of the existence of 
7nind ; while time most certainly belongs, in the 
forms of " duration " and " succession," to all men- 
tal life. Then the question might also be raised as to 
the origin and nature of what is customarily' called 
" casual influence " — whence is got the conceiDtion 
of cause, and what the word " cause " really means. 
Still further, if the activity of the intellect in rea- 
soning were searched to the bottom, then the effort 
might be made to know more about the origin and 
meaning of the " principle of sufficient reason " (al- 
ready s]3oken of), and of the " principle of identity ; " 
and, possibly, also of the fundamental logical prin- 
ciples. 

To perform this work, however, we shall not at- 
tempt. Our very brief surface explorations in the 
region of mental phenomena will be concluded by 
calling attention to the following four principles 
which must be recognized as present in all the de- 
velopment of mind. 

The Principle of Continuity.— A review of what has 
been seen to be true at every stage of our investi- 



220 PRIMER OF PSYCHOLOGY 

gation shows that, when the mental life is regarded as 
a lohole, no breaks or sudden leaps are found, whether 
as hetween its faculties or their elements ; or as hetween 
the successive different states and stages of its develop- 
ment. To say this is almost the same thing as to say 
that the mental life is a true " development." For 
some kind of pretty strict " continuity" is necessary 
to all development ; although in organic growth, as 
in the growth of the mind, certain epochs and pe- 
riods of marked and relatively sudden change are 
to be observed. The principle of continuity applies, 
however, to the mind with peculiar force. Because 
what are called "elements," "faculties," "states," 
" stage's," etc., have no existence whatever apart from 
that continuously flowing life-movement, whose sub- 
ject is called "the Mind." 

To illustrate this principle, one might refer to 
nearly everything which has thus far been said 
regarding the mental activities. For example, it 
was found that the almost infinite variety of sensa- 
tions belonging to some of the senses — such as col- 
ors, sensations of musical sound, of temperature, 
and of pressure — can be arranged in continuous 
series or scales where shades of quality and de- 
grees of intensity merge into each other. The so- 
called sensations are, in all actual experience, 
" woven together " into a sort of continuous texture. 
This is true, for instance, of tastes and smells, of 
sensations of touch and muscular sensations, and 
even of sensations of color and muscular sensations. 
The same principle applies to the so-called faculties ; 



TEMPERAMENT AND DEVELOPMENT 221 

for many sensations cannot be distinguished from 
mental imag'es or ideas ; and among ideas those 
which belong to memory and those which belong to 
imagination often cannot be distinguished. Just 
where mental images become conceptions and where 
the lines are drawn between the recognition of per- 
ception and true acts of reasoning cannot easily be 
discerned. And although we cannot shade into each 
other, by a continuous gradation, the different activ- 
ities belonging to the three faculties of intellect, 
feeling, and will, we do find that they are always 
continuously joined and blended ; and that it is by 
no means easy always to know to which of these 
three faculties certain particular states of conscious- 
ness should be assigned. 

Principle of Relativity.— This principle is very 
closely connected with the principle of continuity. 
No element, or state, or faculty of the mental life 
can be considered, in a way to correspond to the facts 
and to the reality of that life, without taking other 
elements, states, and faculties into the account. Or, 
every individual element^ or state, or form of ^mental 
life is what it is only as relative to other elements, states, 
and forms of mental life. This principle, too, admits 
of almost indefinite illustration. Sensations, for 
example, have no absolute quality or amount, in- 
dependent of the preceding expectation, of the con- 
ditions of attention under which they arise in con- 
sciousness, and of the quality and amount of preced- 
ing and simultaneous sensations of the same sense or 
of other senses. A most curious illustration of the 



222 PBIMER OF PSYCHOLOGY 

force of this principle was obtained in the experi- 
ments to which reference has already been made 
(p. 146). No one, child or adult, was able io feel the 
weight of a certain small cylinder to be equal to a 
certain larger cylinder, although the two were exactly 
the same. In many instances the former was felt to 
be twice (or even more) as heavy as the latter ; the 
reason plainly being that the feeling of the weight 
was relative to the influence of expectation first in- 
duced by sight, and then so corrected by experience 
as to throw the judgment over to the other extreme. 
The Principle of Solidarity — The development of 
the mental life tends, in a very unique and impressive 
way, toward a sort of consolidation, or self-organ- 
izing, as it were. For it is a principle of this life, 
that every activity, whether partial or more general, 
influences the entire development ; and that thus this 
develop'tnent tends toward some unification of residt. 
Here it is that the formation of habits becomes of 
such immense importance. The principle of habit 
belongs both to body and to mind ; it also belongs to 
every organ, and even to every tissue of the body, 
and to every faculty of the mind. Especially are the 
nervous system and the brain brought under the in- 
fluence of this principle. A person with a sensitive 
brain can scarcely wake up two nights in succession 
at the same hour without finding a tendency de- 
veloping to wake again and again at the same hour. 
Let a man be lamed for some time so that he cannot 
without pain bring his foot down squarely when as- 
cending a pair of stairs, and the chances are that the 



TEMPERAMENT AND DEVELOPMENT 223 

habitual swing of that leg in ascending a pair of 
stairs will remain changed during the remainder of 
his life. 

In infancy and youth both body and mind are 
relatively very impressible and susceptible to the 
formation of new habits. This fact is connected 
with the entire character of the tissues and of their 
rate of repair and destruction. But with advancing 
age an actual physical consolidation takes place. 
The tissues become less mouldable, less impressible 
to new influences, etc. Something similar is un- 
doubtedly a principle of the mental life. In those 
persons also where susceptibility to change, caprice, 
and perversity of thought, of feeling, and of conduct 
rule most, the principle still holds. Here, too, the 
very capriciousness, the action that is without recog- 
nized rational motive and intelligent control of the 
will, "solidifies itself." For every mind's life inust 
tend toward some kind of unity ; and this is what 
was seen to be true when the formation of character 
was discussed (p. 208f.). 

Principle of Final Purpose — Finally, activity to some 
purpose, or end, is a principle of mental development. 
In the bodily structure and development the prin- 
ciple of final purpose is recognizable throughout. 
The behavior of the spinal cord of a frog, when it 
has been severed from the brain, illustrates this 
principle. And although the newly born infant puts 
forth many movements which appear, at first sight, 
to serve no purpose (" random automatic move- 
ments "), still a profounder view shows how even 



224 PRIMEE OF PSYCHOLOGY 

these serve tlie end of giving- it the intelligent mas- 
tery of its own mechanism for the subsequent attain- 
ment of ends consciously recog-nized and adopted. 
But this principle is no less powerful and universal 
in the development of the mind. On the occurrence 
of every sensation the tendency is to put the motor 
apparatus to working in a manner directed to some 
appropriate end. Ideas have a sort of structure, so 
to speak, and thereby serve the pur^Doses of being 
guides to thought and conduct, as the sensations 
from which they originate could not possibly be. 
Every process of reasoning is a movement of the 
stream of consciousness in a direction toward some 
end. The concluding judgment is " drawn " on 
" account of " some other judgment, and so as itself 
to serve for a guide to conduct or to some still 
further process of reasoning. 

This i3rinciple works, as do indeed all the other 
principles of mental life, largely below the con- 
sciousness, as it were. The work is much of it — so it 
would seem — done for us rather than hy us with an 
intelligent and conscious adoption of the end to be 
reached. But tfie true and higher development is 
attained only as matters are more thoroughly put 
into our own hands. He who knows himself, who 
plans his own life, who takes himself in hand to carry 
out that plan, and who selects such a plan as will 
worthily dominate and control all the mental facul- 
ties — he it is who is most entitled to be called a true 
Soul, or Mind. A planless mental life is scarcely 
worthy to be called a genuine mental life. 



THE PHILOSOPHICAL WORKS 



OF 



George Trumbull Ladd 

Professor of Philosophy in Yale University 



Primer of Psychology. 

By GEORGE TRUHBULL LADD, Professor of Philosophy in Yale 
University. i2nio, 75 cents net. 

This work is in no sense a condensation of any larger work, 
but has been prepared by the author expressly for the use of 
elementary classes in schools and colleges. The need for such 
a book has been great, and coming as it does from the mas- 
terly hand of this eminent author, its value will be at once 
recognized. 



Psychology: Descriptive and Explanatory. 

A Treatise of the Phenomena, Laws, and Development of Human 
Mental Life. By GEORGE TRUMBULL LADD, Professor of Phil= 
osophy in Yale University. 8vo, $4.50. 

The book is designed to cover the entire ground of descrip- 
tive and explanatory psychology in a summary way, reserving 
speculative discussion and the philosophy of mind for another 
volume. It is carefully adapted to the needs of pupils and 
teachers, while not exclusively prepared for them. 

The point of view taken leads the author into an analysis of 
all the mental processes, but especially into the endeavor to 
trace the development of mental life, the formation and growth 
of so-called "faculty," and the attainment of knowledge and 
of character. 

" I know of no other work that gives so good a critical survey of the whole 
field as this."— Prof. B. P. Bowne, Boston University. 

" Any writing of his is a matter to be grateful for. This book will largely 
increase our debt," — Prof. G. H. Palmer, Harvard University. 



Elements of Physiological Psychology. 

A Treatise of the Activities and Nature of the Mind from the 
Physical and Experimental Point of View. By GEORGE TRUM= 
BULL LADD, Professor of Philosophy in Yale University. 8vo, 
$4.50. 

This is the first treatise that has attempted to present to 
English readers a discussion of the whole subject brought down 
to the most recent times. It includes the latest discoveries, 
and by numerous and excellent illustrations and tables and by- 
gathering material from scores and even hundreds of separate 
treatises inaccessible to most persons it brings before the reader 
in a compact and yet lucid form the entire subject. 

The work has three principal divisions of which th^first 
consists of a description of the structure and functions of the 
Nervous System considered simply under the conception of 
mechanism without reference to the phenomena of conscious- 
ness. The second part describes the various classes of corre- 
lations which exist between the phenomena of the nervous 
mechanism and mental phenomena, with an attempt to state 
what is known of the laws which maintain themselves over 
these various classes. The third part introduces, at the close 
of these researches, the presentation of such conclusions as 
may be legitimately gathered or more speculatively inferred 
concerning the nature of the human mind, 

" Professor Ladd deserves warm thanks for undertaking the preparation of 
such a work." — Mind. 

" He writes at once as a scientist bent on gaining the fullest and clearest 
insight into the phenomena of mind, and as a metaphysician deeply concerned 
with the sublime question of the nature of the spiritual substance." 

— Jamks Sully in The Academy. 

"Well written, in excellent tone and temper, in clear, even style, free from 
needless technicalities, and with due regard to the necessary difference be- 
tween mere speculation or surmises and established facts." 

— New York Times. 

" This admirable work by Professor Ladd deserves a hearty welcome from 
the English public as the first book of sufficient extent of subject matter and 
depth of thought to take the place in American and English literature that has 
been held since 1874 in both Germany and France by Wundt's ' Griindszuge 
der Physiologischen Psychologic.' " — Westminster Review. 

"His erudition and his broad-mindedness are on a par with each other; 
and his volume will probably, for many years to come, be the standard work 
of reference on the subject." — Prof. William James in The Nation. 



Outlines of Physiological Psychology. 

A Text=book of flental Science for Academies and Colleges. By 
GEORGE TRUHBULL LADD, Professor of Philosophy in Yale 
University. Crown 8vo, $2.00. 

The volume is not an abridgment or revision of the larger 
book, Elements of Physiological Psychology, which is still to be 
preferred for mature students, but, like it, surveys the entire 
field, though with less details and references that might embar- 
rass beginners. Briefer discussions of the nervous mechanism, 
and of the nature of the mind as related to the body, will be 
found in the " Outlines " ; while the treatment of relations 
existing between excited organs and mental phenomena offers 
much new material, especially on "Consciousness," " Memory," 
and "Will." 

Later chapters, considering mind and body as dependent 
upon differences of age, sex, race, etc., and giving conclusions 
as to the nature of the mind and as to its connection with the 
bodily organism, reward the student who masters this book. 

The author aims to furnish a complete yet correct text-book 
for the brief study of mental phenomena from the experimental 
and physiological point of view. Both pupil and teacher have 
been considered, that the book may be readily learned and 
successfully taught. 

" I think it an honor to American science and scholarship that the best 
English books on physiological psychology should come from an American 
university." — ^J. McK. Cattell, University of Pennsylvania. 

" As an introduction to the study of physiological psychology it is abso- 
lutely without a rival." — H. N. Gardiner, Smith College. 

" For its purpose there is not a better text-book in the language." 

— The Nation. 
" The account he gives is a succinct and clear digest of the subject, and the 
illustrations leave nothing to be desired." — The British Medical Journal. 

" An important contribution to the experimental and physiological study of 
mental phenomena." — Glasgow Herald. 

" Professor Ladd, in giving to the world his ' Outlines of Physiological 
Psychology,' has reared a monument that marks a decided advance in the 
American literature of physiological philosophy. It will be a standard work." 

— Boston Times. 
"For lucidity of statement and comprehensiveness of treatment within 
moderate limits, Professor Ladd's 'Outlines' is, we believe, unsurpassed." 

— Educational Journal of Canada. 



Introduction to Philosophy. 

An Inquiry after a Rational System of Scientific Principles in 
their Relation to Ultimate Reality. By GEORGE TRUMBULL 
LADD, Professor of Philosophy in Yale University. 8vo, $3.00. 

The hope of the author, as expressed in the Preface and 
incorporated in the title, is that this book may serve to 
"introduce" some of its readers to the study of philosophy. 

Among those for whom it is intended may be first men- 
tioned the young in the later years of our higher educational 
institutions. It is, however, not a technical book for instruc- 
tion, such being, in the opinion of the author, unbecoming a 
study of problems which invite reflection and end in opinion. 
But there are others who share in the general pursuit after a 
knowledge of philosophical questions. None who are thought- 
ful escape the mysteries of which life itself is made up, and to 
all earnest inquirers the book appeals especially. The language 
has been simplified to the utmost, though the questions are of 
such nature that new terms and unfamiliar language sometimes 
occur of necessity, yet all is found to be intelligible and clearly 
stated. Finally it may be said that the author has not left 
himself entirely concealed in the treatment of the subject. He 
modestly makes the confession that his own views, to an extent 
positive as well as critical, appear in the pages, and to the 
public this makes the book of double value and interest. 

CONTENTS: The Source of Philosophy and its Problems — Relation of 
Philosophy to the Particular Sciences — Psychology and Philosophy — 
The Spirit and the Method of Philosophy— Dogmatism, Skepticism, and 
Criticism — The Divisions of Philosophy— The Theory of Knowledge — 
Metaphysics — Philosophy of Nature and Philosophy of Mind — Ethics — 
Esthetics — Philosophy of Religion — Tendencies and Schools in 
Philosophy. 
" The study of his book will be a discipline in shrewd and portrayed rea- 
soning, and open up a world of ideas that will add scope and enjoyment to the 
student's mind. We give it our unqualified endorsement." 

— The Quarterly Review. 
" In all its aspects we are sure Professor Ladd's work will be welcomed." 

— Herald and Presbyter. 
"The entire discussion is fresh, candid, and able. It is not only an intro- 
duction, it is also a contribution to philosophy." 

— Post-Graduate Wooster Quarterly^ 



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